


Once again, we’re connected (without an end)

by tukimecca



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Insecurity, M/M, Misunderstandings, Overthinking, Pining, Pre-debut, REALLY slow, SM Rookies Era, Slow Build, a giant ball of, fansite au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-04
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-11-08 20:35:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 70,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11089425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tukimecca/pseuds/tukimecca
Summary: Taeyong is the idol. Jaehyun is his fansite master. They could have stood on the same stage together.





	1. Living and Enduring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taeyong of NCT and Jaehyun, his fansite master, could have stood on the same stage together.

_Take my hand and draw a circle_  
_This is how much we’ve shared together_  
_My whole heart is by your side_ _  
_ Your dreams are by my side

Without You - NCT U

:::

The thing is; he loves him, with the sureness of rising sun and the fatality of its dawn. He loves him, and it tears him apart, from skin to flesh, then bones, and to the smallest atomic particle that made him up and brought him to existence.

Because this feeling of his - this love that threatens to consume him like the way Taeyong's eyes would whenever they meet his - is as forbidden as sin itself. And even if Jaehyun often finds himself wondering, browsing through two decades of knowledge he had earned, why his feeling is classified as such, in front of imposing gate of reality and society that is unfeeling as rock, Jaehyun has to surrender.

And Taeyong is beautiful; diamond-cut jaw and infinitely glimmering obsidian for eyes. Pool of galaxy uncharted, unexplored. Mysterious, calling out for Jaehyun to look inside and discover a part of him that he doesn’t let anyone see.

A privilege, the key to pandora’s box Taeyong has entrusted him years ago when Jaehyun had accidentally saw him crying and ended up comforting the elder boy by repeating; _“You’ve done well”_ again and again like a prayer when it’s nothing more and nothing less than a fact, a simple statement of reality.

Because Taeyong had done well, exceptionally so. He had endured everything from words that are cruel and merciless to hammer-heavy, judging stares. Rigorous training that left his limbs aching, burning deliciously with strain, sweat-soaked shirts that he wore dragging him to the ground.

Still, Taeyong is strong, coral-reef persistent, and even if he twisted his ankles as much as he cracked his knuckles, he always gets back on his feet; not quite healed but patched up, fire of determination flickering behind his dark eyes like coal ablaze.

Jaehyun remembers hating those eyes as he stared at his report card, always a couple digits behind Taeyong. Taeyong has always been better than him - than everyone else, than trainees who had started long before him and talented ones that suddenly showed up like comet.

He envied Taeyong for he is ambitious, the need to always be on the lead has been carved to his skin, diluted to his blood by years of his parents’ teaching. Always striving to be better, always number one, _always_ , but then there’s Taeyong and he stood taller than any wall of slump Jaehyun had faced before.

He resents the elder boy as much as he adores him. It’s a complicated feeling, like snakes coiled around each other in his stomach; ugly and unsettling, for contempt taints your heart and adoration is only okay when it’s innocent, not when it made him see Taeyong in his dream then wake up with white, sticky substance in his pants.

Jaehyun kept it to himself, he kept his distance from Taeyong and his large, hypnotizing eyes, too. Yet the dream came still, a ghost of pain from a scar that’s supposed to heal. In the end he decided to approach Taeyong - _confront your fear_ , his father said. They had formally introduced themselves to each other before; Jaehyun with shy, dimpled-smile and awkward stutter, Taeyong with the barest hint of smile on his pretty, pretty face.

“You did well, Hyung,” Jaehyun said after a dance practice when Taeyong sat alone at the front line, lying on his back with his arm covering his eyes and chest rhythmically rising and falling.

The trainees who were dancing besides him had already left, opting to hang out with other trainees because there was a rumor about Taeyong already and the moonlight-beautiful boy wasn’t exactly known to be social. Jaehyun could feel dozen pair of eyes locked themselves on him, he’s deer in the headlight, but Taeyong, who slowly lowered his arm and peeked at Jaehyun from under dark, damp lashes, resembled deer so much more with his big, enticing eyes.

Jaehyun found himself staring, which can be considered rude, but he was a man in captive, images of his dream flashed in his head - of _Taeyong, Taeyong, Taeyong_ \- and he couldn’t look away.

The elder’s eyes on him were assessing, questioning. He felt self-conscious and considered looking away, but his father’s voice a loud echo in his head, and Jaehyun hated losing, so he continued to look, grinning even wider albeit bashfully when he added, “that last step, I was wondering if you could teach me. You did it so well.”

Someone from the back suggested them to go and eat _ramyun_ together before going home, followed by chorus of agreement, then someone called for Jaehyun, offering an invitation, but for Jaehyun in that exact moment, there was nothing but Taeyong, _Taeyong, and Taeyong_. It’s like the others were existing in a different plane, somewhere far and lower, while with Taeyong he has ascended somewhere else.

“ _Yah,_ Jaehyun, you still there?” someone - a dancer who’s a year older than him and thousands of steps behind Taeyong called; annoyance streaking his voice in colors of black and dull grey.

Jaehyun jerked in surprise, but his eyes caught the way Taeyong raised his arm until his eyes were hidden once again, tilting his head sideways, a subtle act of looking away. He felt his breath stuck in his throat, but the refusal left his mouth surprisingly easy. “I’m not coming, Taeyong-hyung will teach me that last step, I just couldn’t seem to get it right.”

This time, it’s Taeyong’s turn to jerk, shoulders visibly flinching at the bald-faced lie Jaehyun uttered. The young boy grimaced, silent apology that he’d verbalize properly later, but now he  desperately wished Taeyoung got the signal and was willing to help him.

“You sure?” another trainee piped up, hint of mocking in his voice, “he seems dead to the world to me.”

Jaehyun would have bristled in anger except at the same time, Taeyong suddenly straightened himself to sitting position, scuffed his face harshly with both hands and in a loud voice, he said, “let me get my drink first.”

The room fell into silence; chilly and grating one that made you internally cringe. Gulping, Jaehyun turned around to throw his friends a smile that’s meant to be reassuring but the strain on his cheeks told him it probably came as unnatural, not that he mind at this point because Taeyong had agreed to help him - basically agreed to _spend time with him_ , and that’s more than Jaehyun could ever hope, he merely expected his first proper conversation with Taeyong to go as far as polite _hello_ s and _thank you_ s and _see you tomorrow_ s. “See you tomorrow then!”

The dancer, Heejun, frowned, his irritation was clear as day on his face. He opened his mouth to say something, but Youngho clasped a strong grip on his shoulder, pulled him back slightly, and spoke for him instead, “sure, Jaehyun, see you tomorrow! You too, Taeyong, don’t force yourself too hard.”

Taeyong mumbled out his affirmation, quiet yet loud enough for Youngho to hear. Jaehyun bowed slightly at his senior, grinning in relief, “yeah, Hyung. See you tomorrow.”

Jaehyun watched until the last of them exited the room - the last being Youngho who threw him a wink and thumbs up, Jaehyun sputtered at the gesture, thankfully, Taeyong didn’t seem to notice, still sitting on the floor with his hands covering his face.

Only when the door is fully closed and the two of them were the only occupants left in the room, accompanied by cold, wooden floor, sound-proof wall, and mirror that’s as mute as the other interiors, did Jaehyun finally turn around to look at Taeyong. “Umm,” he started, “thank you, Hyung. I’m sorry too, I should have asked first if you-”

“It’s fine,” Taeyong cut him but his flinch, the way he grew tense soon after didn’t escape Jaehyun’s attention. A beat of silence, a staccato of tension, all of them was broken when Taeyong groaned, voice laced deep with frustration. “Shit. Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you or- sorry.”

Guilt, Jaehyun realized, was what drew the tense lines on his hyung’s shoulder.

He stared at Taeyong; at his sweat-slicked skin and exposed forearms; at his bony hands and protruding bones of his knuckle; at his limbs that’s so strong when he danced but clumsy when he walked (he might, or might have not seen Taeyong tripping over nothing a couple of times before); at his black sneakers that had shown sign of wear; at his damp, dark brown hair that clumped together here and there from sweat.

Jaehyun had already known but Lee Taeyong was really frail despite the strength he exuded when he danced, and all strung out like this, it scared Jaehyun because he looked like he could break any second.

A moment of epiphany came unexpectedly, like his twisted feeling for Taeyong. It whispered to his ears, unraveled his memory with tender yet persistent fingers; that Taeyong had always been dancing, strong and beautiful, always passionate, always with pin-point accuracy, because he loved to dance, he loved the way the beats control his body, and maybe on top of everything, because he knew when the music dies nothing can keep him together, nothing can keep him standing on his all-too-fragile feet, nothing can guide him. _Nothing_ -

“Your dance,” Jaehyun blurted out, breathless, scared. His heart was running miles per seconds, too fast, _too fast, “_ is beautiful, Hyung. I always admire you. Always. I want to talk to you, you are beauti- _shit_ , I mean-”

Clumsy were his words that rushed out from his mouth, awkward gangly steps of growing baby gazelle. Honest were the same words, pouring out from his heart like broken valve. Jaehyun clasped his mouth shut then, stringing litanies in his head at his own stupidity. He should be careful; this was Taeyong - beautiful, beautiful Taeyong who’s as ephemeral as cicada’s dream and ethereal like daydream. Taeyong who kindly backed up Jaehyun’s lie and went as far as teaching him dance.

Then there was a small voice at the back of his head - disparaging - telling him that Taeyong didn’t actually have any intention to help him at all. Anxiety started fizzling in his chest, burning his stomach; the thought of failing to befriend Taeyong terrorized his prideful heart. He didn’t gather his courage just to hit the skids like this. The supposedly wide room grew closer, silent walls caving in their judgement. The compressed air grew thicker, making it more difficult for uneasy Jaehyun to breath.

His salvation came in the form of Lee Taeyong slowly lowering down his hands, dark-doe eyes peeking from between sweat-clumpy bangs and bitten nails. Jaehyun still finds it hard to breathe but this time he didn’t mind; not at all when he can have the man who plagued his dream looking up at him like he was the only star showing up in murky, cloudy night sky. “You really think so?”

The elder boy asked him, timid and kitten-shy. Hopeful; like children showing their parents the first picture they drew for appraisal. Jaehyun would have cooed if it wasn’t for the thickness in his throat. So he only nodded; robot-mechanical, yet toddler-genuine.

Taeyong rose then, first sun in the spring, a blanket of golden-colored jubilation. His hands fell completely away from his face, revealing a small smile that wobbled nervously on the edge, lips rolled back slightly to show a row of pearly white teeth, cheeks blossomed in shy hue of peonies. Jaehyun remembered the bouquet that always decorated his mother’s vase in their living room, but Taeyong’s celestial beauty can put those delicate flowers to shame.

“You are like, the best,” Jaehyun’s mouth moved in auto-pilot. He got to say something, anything to hear more of that enthralling voice speaking to him, addressing him – _calling_ him, the lump in his throat be damned. “Really, really the best. Like, I can’t take my eyes off- Oh God,” he bemoaned at too honest lips, face flaming crimson.

Taeyong’s face copied his expression, pink cheeks turning a couple of shades darker. He lowered his gaze, lashes falling demurely on his tender skin. Jaehyun felt another twist in his stomach, mouth hanging open ever so slightly at the view that had held him under a spell. “Thank you… Jaehyunnie. That means a lot to me,” a pause, white teeth digging into delicate flesh, then, “your voice, I like it, too. They’re, umm, sweet? Like honey...”

The thing is; he loves him, with the sureness of rising sun and the fatality of its dawn.

He loves - _loved_ \- him, and it tore him apart back then when he was no more older than sixteen and felt bitterness towards the elder boy for being better than him.

Because he’s not supposed to feel like _this_ too; not supposed to sleep with the image of Taeyong dancing behind his lids, and his name stumbling from his lips when he wakes up in the morning.

He should surpass Taeyong, exceed him; keep your friends close and enemy closer, they said, and that’s exactly why Jaehyun made up his mind to befriend Taeyong, not so he can fall deeper into the mysteriously alluring eyes of uncharted galaxy that is him.

Yet at that moment; at that single moment when Taeyong was looking down at his laps where his bitten nails were resting; at that single moment when Taeyong’s delicate face glowed from his blush and timid smile; at that single moment when Jaehyun’s name had slipped out from Taeyong’s lips with reverence, all notions spurred by his ego bid their farewell, and Jaehyun welcomed the heart-searing affection that had been rooting in his veins, flourishing in his heart.

And Taeyong was beautiful, will never stop being one, so Jaehyun told him just that, ignoring the red, blaring alarm in his head. This time when Taeyong smiled - an actual, dazzling smile that scrunched his nose and crinkled the corner of his eyes, brimming with his boyish charm - their eyes met, stars aligned.

Jaehyun didn’t think he can breath anymore. Not that he minded since he suddenly didn’t want to breath if it’s not Taeyong that he’s breathing in.

:::

Getting close with Taeyong, getting him to open up was by no means easy. But Jaehyun was persistent, and when Taeyong was the one who came up to him instead of the other way around, it felt like a victory; _his_ victory.

Everyday with Taeyong was bright, exultant days, filled with shy smiles and dimpled-grin, vivid blushes glowing their cheeks alive, timid laughs, and hesitant yet needy fingers. At first it was Jaehyun who had to reach out first, greeting him with cheerful, “hello, Taeyong-hyung!”, plopping down to sit beside him in between practice breaks, their weary legs pressing on each other’s, “how are you so good in dancing, Hyung, teach me!”

Taeyong always did, and whenever Jaehyun manages to execute it, albeit nowhere as flawless and fluid as Taeyong, the elder would beam at him; father-proud and mother-indulgence, heart-searing fingers pressing on the sweaty skin of Jaehyun’s nape, squeezing affectionately. “that’s incredible, Jaehyunnie!”

It’s a habit that Taeyong would adopt later on, and Jaehyun would develop his own, too, when Taeyong became brave enough to include himself in Jaehyun’s seemingly endlessly expanding social circle and everyone had taken a fondness of him, enough to tease Taeyong until he’s reduced into blushing, stuttering mess. Which was so endearing and evoked the slumbering protectiveness within Jaehyun, he would place his hand on Taeyong’s thigh, slipping down to his knee, then stay there; grounding, reassuring.

It would come in the future but for the time being Jaehyun was still struggling to make Taeyong feel welcomed in the said social circle, for despite his winterland-cold beauty, Taeyong was baby-chick shy and overgrown-gazelle awkward. Even more than clumsy Taeil and bumbling Mark. Johnny’s charm and Yuta’s easy smile weren’t enough to disarm his ice-cold armor.

But around Jaehyun, around Jaehyun he unclasped the buckle, unfastened the belt, and shed his armor all so willingly, smiling a little wider, speaking a little louder. He’d always glue himself to Jaehyun, skin to skin; a welcomed candy-stickiness. They surged a twisted sense of pride in Jaehyun’s stomach, a titillating tidal wave that washed him with saccharine bliss.

There was also another sensation that stirred awake within Jaehyun’s gut, something that he refused to acknowledge until Taeyong was finally comfortable enough in his skin around his new-found friends that he could laugh, flowers in full bloom-open and twittering birds-chirpy. He was sitting beside Yuta who’s laughing with him over something, something that honestly Jaehyun wouldn’t even want to know. Taeyong’s hand was holding his side, the other clutching Yuta’s elbow.

The snake coiled tight around his heart hissed loudly, ready to shoot its thick, bloody venom. Maybe some of it already trickled out, dripping to the tissue of Jaehyun’s inside for there was a foul, stinging burn dancing in his stomach. The pain was ferocious, brutal, like the monster called possessiveness that wove their way into Jaehyun’s consciousness. It took over and materialized itself in his voice; sharp-edged and commanding.

“Taeyong-hyung,” his voice cut through the merry air of the training room; cold, acute knife digging through a tender flesh.

Some trainees turn furtive glances at him, some started whispering. Jaehyun realized then he had been loud - _too_ loud - and the usual him would have his face aflame crimson, except crimson was the color that dyed his view and deep scarlet was his bubbling anger that coursed through his veins.

The deep-seated ire was uncharacteristic of him, he knew, Yuta - Yuta who stared frozen at him with big, bulging eyes and hanging mouth probably knew too, and Jaehyun was ready for the upcoming teasing of his childish possessiveness. He didn’t mind, he didn’t care. All that his being wanted was for Taeyong to laugh for and with him alone, and the hunger kept on clawing at the base of his throat, pathetically begging to be voiced up out loud.

“Jaehyun!” Taeyong perked up at his voice, turning all his attention to Jaehyun with bright, starry eyes and camelia-red cheeks, a smile too radiant, like sun, strong and powerful, mighty enough to banish the darkness that enshrouded Jaehyun’s heart.

Jaehyun felt his breath leaving his lungs when he saw Taeyong clambered to his feet, infinite legs quickly crossing the distance between them like Jaehyun didn’t just quiet down the whole room with his poorly-hidden jealousy. Or maybe Taeyong simply didn’t know, maybe Taeyong was really oblivious to Jaehyun’s ill-temper for he was that enamored with him in a sense that he would never be wrong in Taeyong’s eyes. After all, Taeyong had confessed himself when they were lying side by side on the damp grass by the river bank, a little while past midnight under the vast expanse of blanket called starry sky.

“Maybe, maybe I’ve been waiting for someone like you.”

And that night Jaehyun had remembered how his heart screamed, yelled so hard he was sure Taeyong could hear. But Taeyong could not, for heart cannot speak, for heart cannot verbalize, and there was no word that could properly express the emotions that threatened to burst through his chilly skin. No words could possibly describe this feeling that made his heart bleed everyday whenever he looked at the boy who lied beside him; the beautiful boy whose fingers shyly made a journey to fit themselves in Jaehyun’s palm.

There was no hesitation, as sure as his feelings, when Jaehyun caught those fingers and clasped their hands together. Taeyong stilled, but didn’t look at him. Jaehyun didn’t either, just lying there, staring at the field of dark-purple sky and its twinkling stars.

He wondered if it’s okay to feel like _this_ for someone he’s supposed to outrun, then somewhere in between his musing, he felt Taeyong shifted so his head was resting on Jaehyun’s shoulder, hair tickling Jaehyun’s neck. From his mouth, three words slipped. They went straight to Jaehyun’s ears, fell right to his heart, and Jaehyun closed his eyes, mentally raising his hands in surrender as he turned toward his hyung, inhaling Taeyong’s clean, sterile scent, and said, “I’m with you.”

He didn’t need to see to know Taeyong was smiling at his answer, and the same smile was now painted at his face, vibrant and spring-vivacious, and it should scare Jaehyun how easily Taeyong can affect - control - his emotions, except he didn’t for he was just that happy to have Taeyong literally stumble into his arms.

Jaehyun caught his elbows, balancing the perky elder boy as he curled his fingers on Jaehyun’s forearm, breathless from his earlier glee. “What made you so chirpy, hyung?”

“Listen, Yuta just told me that-”

If his smile was spring; lively green-shrubbery and blossoming fields, then his voice was summer; bright seaside and refreshing blue. They painted Jaehyun’s cloudy heart in sun-drenched gold, and Jaehyun prayed winter will never come to take this heart-searing heat away from him.

:::

But winter did come, although autumn came first.

Autumn came as the report card that Jaehyun hurled to the silently judging wall of his bedroom, fell to the equally mocking test result from his school (slightly above average; _slightly_ when he should be _way above_ and _right on top_ ). A voice that he denied resembling his father kept chanting on his head; _not enough, more, more-_

More because Taeyong was already far ahead; always had been, _always_ , and Jaehyun could only watch as his _hyung_ walked further in the speed of his ever so improving rap. Fear grappled at Jaehyun’s already chipping heart, digging their sharp, jagged and unfeeling claws deep, deeper, like the way frustration had infiltrated his insides and scorched his blood. He didn’t want to be left behind as much as he didn’t want to lose, least of all by and to Taeyong.

So Jaehyun pushed himself farther, dragged his already tired feet to execute the complicated dance steps. He had done this multiple times already, why couldn’t he do it right? He cursed loudly, in English, when he missed a step, Johnny a row in front of him flinched but said nothing. Taeyong at the front - _always_ at the front, flit his gaze to him through the mirror, Jaehyun caught that because he _always_ look at Taeyong, too, but with loathing and shame clouding his head, he cast his eyes away.

In his frustration, he shut himself, sealing his mouth as tight as his heart. It was obvious enough for his friends, Jaehyun had no intention of hiding it either, very childish but he didn’t care, partly because he couldn’t think clearly and partly because even though everyone wasbwalking on eggshells around him, Taeyong hovers around him with grace and mother-like tenderness.

He’d wipe Jaehyun’s sweaty forehead (with clean, clean towel) after particular grueling practice, forehead creased in worry but smile firm, reassuring. Jaehyun was eagle-sprawled on the cool floor, gasping desperately for air, muscles burnt from exertion.

“You’ve done it so well,” Taeyong murmured gently, his eyes that shone down on Jaehyun was his lifeline. “Let’s rest for today, okay?”

If his limbs weren’t so dead, Jaehyun would clasp his hand around Taeyong’s wrist, but alas, they had decided to glue themselves to the ground, and Jaehyun was left with nothing but little energy that was only enough to stretch a smile on his face. “I’m tired,” Jaehyun choked out, breathless.

“I know,” Taeyong’s smile softened, his hand moved to wipe Jaehyun’s cheek, resting there for a while before sliding down to his neck. “It’s gonna be okay, you’re going to be okay.”

Jaehyun shifted his head slightly, chasing after the warmth of Taeyong’s skin that’s hidden beneath the now sweat-dampened towel. “Am I?” he croaked weakly, “I’m so slow, and everybody else around me are faster, improving. Even you-”

The elder stilled and Jaehyun’s heart stuttered. His energy suddenly returned to catch Taeyong’s wrist - the thin wrist that was stronger than how it looked like, the wrist that his fingers had encircled many times before.

“I’m not blaming you, but, Hyung, you are so beautiful, so amazing, and I’m- I just want to stay with you, to be able to stand before you just as good, but I can’t, not yet because I’m so slow, and pathetic, and-”

“Jaehyun-”

“-I’m scared that I’d be left behind, and if I failed I wouldn’t be able to be with you, and I don’t want that because I know how long you’ve been alone, and I-”

“Are you with me?” Taeyong asked, loud and firm that it startled Jaehyun, effectively stopping his ramble. And maybe it’s not the steadiness of his voice that got him, but the thick, barely concealed blues of heartaches that colored it.

His eyes were glassy, and Jaehyun’s own gaze swam when they met. “Hyung-”

“You said you are with me,” Taeyong pressed on, eyes blinking rapidly. The way his voice wobbled by the end only spurred Jaehyun’s self-loathing further; why oh why couldn’t he do anything right, he even made Taeyong cry? “Then I’m with you, too. I’m not leaving you alone, okay? You said it yourself you won’t leave me when I asked you the same thing. Don’t you trust me?”

Jaehyun remembered that night, two boys revealing each other open only for themselves and the merciful blinking stars to see. A pledge, promise of forever exchanged with different words, by the kiss of skin on skin. Taeyong’s voice that trembled as much as his fingers, Jaehyun’s heart that’s filled with as much sadness as happiness.

At Jaehyun’s silence, Taeyong fell, sunken ship in the horizon; far away, unreachable, and it’s scarier than when Taeyong was beyond him in training because if it’s then, Jaehyun can still catch up; a little harder, a little more time. But if Taeyong went under now, Jaehyun wasn’t sure if it’s somewhere he could go to.

His lips quivered, and Jaehyun surged upward, rising tide like the fear that swallowed his heart. He grabbed Taeyong’s shoulders, a little too hard, little too strong, but it wasn’t the pain that elicited gasp from his mouth, but the way Jaehyun crashed their bodies together, burying his head in the crook of Taeyong’s neck, inhaling all of him in and imagining they bleed into one. “I do. I trust you, Hyung. I do. God, I’m with you. Always. I’m sorry.”

Taeyong sniffed, copying Jaehyun’s gesture, he pressed his head to Jaehyun’s shoulders, shaking fingers curling tightly on his sweaty shirt. The tremble of his body and the new wetness on his skin told him that Taeyong was crying, stifled sob echoed brokenly in the room, wrecking Jaehyun’s already depleted heart. “You shouldn’t be the one who’s worried, Jaehyun. Nobody would leave you; you’re a good boy, an amazing person.”

“So are you, Hyung,” Jaehyun murmured on his skin, lips a shy whisper away from a touch that could have been a kiss already. “You are a great person, too.”

The laugh that tumbled out from Taeyong’s mouth was ugly; broken chains from rust and chars. He pulled away and looked up at Jaehyun with wet, glassy eyes that spoke of anguish as red as anger, and hopelessness as blue as misery. “I did bad things in the past, Jaehyun,” he said, biting on each syllables through his teeth. It was the first time Jaehyun had ever seen him like this; smiling full with disdain and contempt, at nobody else but at himself. “If you knew, you would-“

“I wouldn’t!” Jaehyun responded immediately, tightening his hold on the elder boy. “I won’t, I swear to you, Taeyong-hyung, I will never leave.”

And Taeyong only cried harder, painting gilded, silvery path down his cheeks. That moment, Jaehyun genuinely thought as heartbreaking as their situation were, Taeyong was beautiful – _still_ and will always be beautiful, even until when the time decided to eventually stop and put demise on everything, Taeyong would remain beautiful, _always_ , forever in Jaehyun’s captivated eyes and prisoner of heart.

Taeyong cried, but it was nothing compared to when winter decided it’s his time to visit, draping a thick blanket of numbing bleakness all over them. And numb was Jaehyun’s left leg that he had twisted with loud, sickening yelp of pain. He fell to the floor, a heavy drop of rock, clutching his throbbing leg that had slowly started to lose sensation from overwhelming burn.

He couldn’t even tell if he’s still screaming or not but he knew his mouth were hanging open, and his eyes were screwed shut, but his ears were open to hear the thunderous footsteps around him, calling his name; _Jaehyun! Jaehyun! Someone call the doctor!_

Jaehyun immediately thought of his father and apparently, someone else thought of the same thing. “Get his father!” the voice, which Jaehyun could identify as Youngho if he wasn’t so dizzied by the excruciatingly scorching pain on his leg, shouted.

But even if everything was blurring away, intermingling and bleeding into each other to murky, dim color of black and blue, Taeyong would always remain in focus; sharp angles like his diamond-cut jaw and his striking, arresting eyes. Indeed when Jaehyun opened his eyes, Taeyong was there; spilling tears after tears like weaving strings of pearls, and they’re beautiful as they made their journey down the plane of Taeyong’s chiseled cheeks.

In his voice there was so many sadness, _too much_ pain that if they compared it with the one that’s been killing Jaehyun’s leg, he’s sure that Taeyong’s sorrow was much more acute.  He was calling Jaehyun’s name, again and again, like prayer, like if he pleaded long enough, his wish would be granted. But it depends, Jaehyun thought, if he prayed so Jaehyun would be alright, he didn’t think even the ever so mighty God can bless it into happening.

When his consciousness started slipping, Jaehyun wondered if maybe Taeyong was begging him to _stay_ , and Jaehyun thought he couldn’t fulfill it either, so he smiled, for Taeyong was so beautiful like the way sun rises from the east and dawns in the west. And just like them, Jaehyun’s feeling for him was sure, gravity-undeniable, that even if they were to set apart, he’d always find himself back to Taeyong again and again.

“Jaehyunnie! Stay with me!” Taeyong cried helplessly. And winter came, hushed in its arrival yet clamorous still with how it enshrouds them with bone-chilling frostiness.

Jaehyun mouthed; _I’m sorry_ , before bidding goodbye to the last of his consciousness. He forced himself to welcome winter; a winter that would last longer than four cycles of moon and some more.

:::

Winter was long, winter was cold, winter was unfeeling, and so was truth; harsh in his judgement but knows all too well. The doctor who attended to him was his father’s colleague, and when he cast Jaehyun’s family with sympathetic eyes and regretful shakes of his head, “I’m sorry,” Jaehyun thought he resembled truth.

Achilles tendon tear, it had grown so bad to the point he had to undergo surgery to treat it. To top that, he was suffering from meniscus tear as well. Jaehyun had nobody to blame but himself; he had exerted his body too much to deal with his depleting self-confidence and over-achiever issue, now he was paying the consequence as they came to him with vengeance.

The doctor advised him to stop pursuing his career as idol because it could serve to detriment his busted leg further. His mother took the caution seriously, with tearful smile and gentle yet coercing hands on Jaehyun’s cheeks, she asked – _begged_ – him to stop. His father was mute beside his colleague, but even unspoken, Jaehyun could almost hear his silent command.

Jaehyun stared blankly at his mother, or maybe past her crying face, to the cream-colored wall and the painting of butterfly that decorated it. Jaehyun thought then, of a lot of things, of so many things he never considered thinking about before.

But on top of everything, there was Taeyong who decorated the wall of his mind; Taeyong and his beautiful eyes, Taeyong and his clumsy limbs, Taeyong and his morning-glory-shy smile, Taeyong and his meticulous need to have everything always in order, Taeyong and the fluid grace of his dancing, Taeyong and his welcomed nagging, Taeyong and the way he effortlessly lowered the wall of his defense whenever Jaehyun entered his bound.

Of Taeyong and how he wouldn’t be able to see him again, and it tore Jaehyun apart like how he had ruptured his muscles.  It began with a pop, loud and nasty, and then jolts of pain coursed through his cells, a merciless thunderstorm. And as merciless was the way Taeyong’s cry ravaged him when the elder boy came to visit the very next day; red-rimmed eyes glassy with tears, tears that continued spilling from his shimmering obsidian of eyes; crushed pearls and diamonds.

And Jaehyun would have caught them, like how his ears had caught the broken sobs that escaped his cherry lips; “ _don’t go_ , he begged, _please stay,_ ” Taeyong pleaded, except he knew even if he captured those words in his palms, curled his fingers tightly around them so they wouldn’t fall scattering like the obvious remorse that burst through from Taeyong’s trembling figure, he’d have no place to store those pleas. A prayer that could never be answered even if the whole stars in the universe are burning out.

Jaehyun let them slip then from the crack of his fingers. The words fall, splattered to the floor and crashed into millions of silvery dust and blackened shards. Broken impaired. Taeyong didn’t beg anymore, he just cried and cried until his sister came to pick him up. Jaehyun could only watch as she tugged his sobbing brother away, looking at Jaehyun apologetically before leaving.

Taeyong didn’t look his way. Jaehyun didn’t call him either. Spring was far away.

:::

The thing is; he loves him, with the sureness of rising sun and the fatality of its dawn. Unchanging. Even when Jaehyun officially resigns from SM once the summer bids its farewell and dry leaves start to fall; even when his grandmother changes his name from ‘Jaehyun’ to ‘Yoonoh’ so he can have it written in _hanja_ ; even when his mother tells him he can start anew as ‘Yoonoh’, a clean slate, a polite way to say, ‘ _it’s time to give up on your old dream and find a new one_ ’, Jaehyun – _Yoonoh_ – loves him still.

And it is exactly for that reason he finds himself answering, “photography,” when his father asks him about his future plan in the first breakfast they had after he resigned from the agency. His mother looks at him, perplexed, his father does a better job at hiding it.

“That’s kind of, not what I expected,” the eldest Jeong says carefully around his words.

Jaehyun – Yoonoh, Yoonoh, _Yoonoh_ , but he still hears Taeyong calling him “Jaehyunnie” at night and when he wakes up first thing in the morning, _and_ in his dream - looks at his half-eaten bowl of rice.

The _kimchi_ is especially sour this morning, Yoonoh wonders if it’s his mistake as well; his mother has been worrying about him too much even if his surgery was successful. He can walk now, still shaky at times but some more therapies and he can fully recover. “It’s fun,” he tries, “I don’t know, it doesn’t have to be my future career, truth to be told, I still don’t know, but I guess starting a new hobby is a good place to start?”

His parents share a look at each other, the one that Yoonoh purposely ignores in favor of his meal. They do not talk about it anymore but when Yoonoh comes home a week later to find a box carefully wrapped in navy-blue paper sitting on his desk, and a card with _‘use this well_ ’ written in it, he knows his parents have approved of his choice (Yoonoh waits until his father comes home and welcomes him with tight, teary hug, _“thank you, thank you, thank you_.”)

They have photography club in his school and Yoonoh makes new friends. Girls flock around him left and right, and his shiny DSLR gets other girls from outside the club talking about him as well. He knows he’s famous; he has always been since elementary school with his good manners and handsome face. The camera is just icing on the cake.

He joins another photography class outside school as well, something that not many people his age can attend but Yoonoh is lucky to be born privileged in a way, so he has photography session replacing the slot he usually reserved for training on the weekends.

The instructor asks him what kind of photography he’s most interested on, Yoonoh doesn’t even think when he replies, “people photography, stage photography, too.”

He partakes more in that session, adding night photography class two months later (because the technique is similar with stage photography; shooting dynamic motion in low-light condition).  The models for the sessions come to him as well, they’re all beautiful with full-lips and well-structured face, but the lack of contrast between their jaws and cheeks are all Yoonoh – _Jaehyun_  - can focus on, and his instructor tells him even if he got the technique right, his photos are almost devoid of feeling.

“You sure you want to master people photography?” he looks at Yoonoh with mixture of quizzical and disappointment.

Yoonoh smiles; all dimples and mechanic, he says, “maybe they’re just not the right people.”

His instructor frowns at his answer, and when he speaks about how good photographer doesn’t discriminate his models, his exasperation is as sharp as the outline of his model’s figure in the picture that Yoonoh captured with his lens, standing out against the blurry background of furniture’s cream and white.

Even if the models often come to him with their full-red lips and strong smell of perfumes, asking him if he has time for quick lunch or movie after class,  Yoonoh always declines their offer. Because they’re not the _right person_ , and Yoonoh’s _right person_ is probably practicing to perfect his dance routine, sweat dripping from his forehead to his well-defined cheek bones, then down to his diamond-cut jaw.

Many girls from his school confess to him as well but Yoonoh never fails to decline each one of them, approving their courage, apologizing for not accepting, and whenever they ask him the question of the century; _“why?”_ he’d always answer with, “I have someone that I like.”

Which is true, in his defense. Even if this person he likes would never like him back, the fact that he likes – _loves_ – him won’t change just like you won’t be able to make sun rise from west and sink in the east.

And that person that Yoonoh – _Jaehyun_ – loves from the innermost part of the ocean that is his heart, makes his first public appearance when new year is around the corner. Yoonoh literally drops his phone when he sees the announcement (he’s editing a new batch of photo he took during his school’s club photo hunting last weekend).

He never had cardiac-arrest before but he imagines it’s the similar feeling with what he’s feeling at the moment; heart squeezed tightly by invisible hands, lungs stopped working. He feels suffocated, dizzy, and in his stupor, he gingerly picks up his phone.

Quick flurries of finger, then Yoonoh has a picture of Taeyong – _his_ lovely, adorable, and hard-working Taeyong-hyung – saved in his memory card (he doesn’t make it into his wallpaper until three days later, he set a password to his phone as well).

Taeyong in the picture is as stunning as Yoonoh – _Jaehyun_ – remembers him to be, if not more. His black hair (hair that he remembers to be silkier than his newly washed sheet) are pulled back by his hand, revealing his glorious face structure that has appeared so many times in Jaehyun’s unbidden dream. Full brows, thin, yet lovely-shaped lips, tapered jaw and prominent, yet soft cheekbones, then his eyes; eyes that used to be guarded but had unveiled themselves in front of Jaehyun, are as dark and big as the night sky.

Jaehyun cannot wait until the day he can capture this sublime beauty with his own lens, but until then he has to wait by honing his skill, putting more effort to photograph models whose face blurs together in his memory, staying out late in the midst of cold January night just to capture the perfect illumination.

His endeavor was noticed by his instructor, he starts offering Yoonoh some jobs at his studio, taking Yoonoh with him as his assistant for his professional job. The cash isn’t much at first but the more his skill developed, the more money that pile up in his account. He eventually gets a part time job at the instructor’s studio, enables him access to equipments and lenses he didn’t dare touch before in fear of ruining them. Yoonoh gets to stand behind the lens too sometimes when the more senior photographer is absent.

Season rolls, and even if winter has permanently roots itself in Yoonoh’s heart, summer returns with its searing heat. The f(x) turmoil happens but Yoonoh, albeit feeling a little sorry, isn’t paying much attention to it. When Red Velvet’s debut drops, though, that’s different reason all together. Because he knows Seulgi personally, Irene (Joohyun), and Wendy (Seungwan) as well.

He gets a little teary eyed at watching their debut MV, losing himself in _what if_ s and dreaming of things he knew would never happen. Past is past, and what’s done is done. His knee might be healed, but time is permanent fixture unreversed. Days gone by is place he can no longer visit no matter how much money he has for there is no ticket to go there. And Taeyong is far away, has always been far ahead beyond the reach of Jaehyun’s fingertips.

Seeing him on the screen, words flowing out from his mouth rich with emotion in “Open The Door”, eventually crushes the last of Jaehyun’s resistance, splintering it with no mercy like speeding train. He cries; for the first time since he ruined his knee, ended his dream, and eradicated all hope of ever standing on the same stage with the boy he loves stronger than he had ever loved anything before, Jaehyun cries.

:::

There is a dream, ruptured and broken. There is Jaehyun, and his heart is everlasting winter that’s foreign to the concept of spring. There is a boy, beautiful like the wisp of firefly under the glittering blanket of starry, summery sky. There is that boy, too, with hands stained darkened red by the macabre of his past.

There is a post that Jaehyun wishes he could just incarcerate into ashes and wipe from everyone’s memories. There is a boy who always seems to shine in Jaehyun’s memory, brilliant incandescent. But now twilight has settled in and shadow grows longer, the boy became obscured, consumed by incalescent hatred that people typed tireless on the keyboard.

And even if it’s always winter that colonized his heart, Jaehyun realizes he has never known winter at all. The placid, constant flutter of snow is nothing compared to this blizzard that brews, relentless thunderstorm that demolish everything in sight.

His mind is as blank as the screen of _kakao talk_ he has opened absent-mindedly in his trance. His heartbeat is out-of-sync orchestra, grating and abrasive in his ears. He doesn’t know whether to believe what these people had written about the boy whom Jaehyun has left a part of his heart with, but if there’s one thing that he knows, this boy _needs_ him, right now.

 _“I did bad things in the past,”_ suddenly stands out, clearly and audibly parting through the sea of jarring cacophony in his head. Jaehyun’s mouth falls open, and his fingers are moving on its own to find a name;

_Lee Taeyong_

There was a boy; dancing with fluid grace that captivated every seeing eyes, rapping with emotion thicker than blood. There was a boy, and he was alone – _always_ alone – until Jaehyun, young, starry-eyed yet ambitious Jaehyun, approached him; nervous dimpled-smile and bald-faced lie. And the boy had looked at him; eyes a dying galaxy that would be revived by the call of Jaehyun’s cluster of stars.

And that boy was alone for a reason Jaehyun didn’t know back then, but now he does, it feels like standing on collapsing ground. Unsure, unsteady. Scary, but Taeyong must be feeling even more scared right now. Terrified and alone.

His fingers still, hovering above the screen. It’s been so long, _too_ long, he hasn’t even answered Taeyong’s question back then, he has no right to demand Taeyong for a reply.  But it doesn’t matter for now, it’s not an explanation, nor a feedback that he wants. He wants – Jaehyun just _wants_ Taeyong to feel, to be, to-

 _I’m with you_.

He types. In his head he hears a voice that closely resembles his own, mocking, jeering; _what a liar_.

Jaehyun swears, “I know.”

He presses ‘send’. The answer is spring; never came.

:::

The rumor didn’t dwindle down, even after SM issued official apology and Taeyong had allegedly apologized to his victim on top of refunding him. Jaehyun’s heart aches for him; he imagines how shitty Taeyong must feel, imagines how frightened he is.  He imagines the worst, but nothing is worse than the thought of Taeyong having to face this alone.

Jaehyun considers contacting him again, or even drop by the agency, but he knows they wouldn’t allow him in even if he spent nearly two years of his adolescent there. Plus, he knows he doesn’t have even a fickle of courage to actually do the deed. The thought of meeting them again is scary, not because Jaehyun thinks they’d judge him for stopping, but more because he left with no word even though his leg’s circumstance was enough notification already.

When it comes to Taeyong, the thought is even more frightening. They didn’t part in bad term per se, but the last time he saw Taeyong was the first time Taeyong came to visit him in the hospital, and they didn’t even share a single word, just Taeyong crying hopelessly, begging for Jaehyun not to go. A plea that he couldn’t answer for his parents’ decision was final and Jaehyun knew that stopping, in a sense; _leaving Taeyong_ , is better for his long time future.

So Jaehyun doesn’t try to contact him again, doesn’t try coming to the company. He lets the chat with _Lee Taeyong be_ buried by dozen other chats, and he still declines girls who flung their way to him with dimpled-smile and polite apology. “I have someone that I love,” he says.

Somewhere in the middle, they start saying; _“you’ve been using that excuse for years!”_ Jaehyun lets the amicability drop from his smile upon hearing that for the first time, but his smile is still intact, everlasting like the cold season of the year that still resides in his heart.

“Then maybe it’s time for people to realize that I won’t be moving on anytime soon.”

The girl cries, bad rumor about Yoonoh starts circulating. He pays no mind to it, throwing himself to jobs (he gets night-shifts at a convenient store thrice a week on top of his studio and photography job) and studies. In between, he follows SM Rookies activities. Some fansites are starting to appear one by one, Yoonoh would have join them if it wasn’t for the pledge he made to himself; he won’t do anything until he gets accepted in university.

His parents naturally start worrying about his health, but Yoonoh convinces them he’s fine. He eats a lot to compensate for his lack of sleep, getting chubbier in return, but anything that can make him last another sleepless night.

Once the peak season of CSAT ends, Yoonoh allows himself time to breathe. He takes solo vacation to Tokyo one weekend for some photo hunting, while in fact he probably spends more time catching up with SM Rookies activity at chain coffee shops than actually doing what he tells everyone he’d do. His fixation starts worrying him when his phone’s memory is full with images of Taeyong, but he tells himself it’s fine, once his ‘project’ is big enough, it can generate him extra cash for bigger phone memory.

2015 ends, and in January, Lee Sooman makes presentation about Neo Culture Technology. Yoonoh has difficulty wrapping his head around the concept, and so are millions of people in the internet. But he knows Lee Sooman, the man is brilliant, and his vision has always been for long term instead of instant profit, so he keeps his faith, he’ll come around once the promotion officially starts.

Internet has divided opinions as always. Yoonoh has filtered his readings, only selecting posts that views Taeyong in favorable light and ignores the opposite one (while actively downvoting every bad comments even though he knows it’s fruitless). Even amongst the fandom itself, fans are torn between ones who support Taeyong and ones who censure him. Regardless of their standing, they agree that Taeyong will make it to debut.

 _“SM is not letting that gem of talent go_.”

Someone has left that comment, and Yoonoh doesn’t think twice before pressing the _upvote_ icon.

He’s disassembling his camera in the studio when his twitter pops a notification of SM Rookies show in Bangkok, along with a rumor that Taeyong will be amongst the first batch to leave because they’ll have some appearance in Thailand’s TV Show and Radio. Yoonoh desperately wants to go, but his schedule has already been booked at the designated departure date, and it’s not like he can break the promise he made to himself either.

His university acceptance letter arrives at the leg of spring. In celebration, Yoonoh moves out of the house. With the money he had collected in the span of three years, he has enough saving to rent a room near his college. The room is small, only enough for a bed (long enough to accommodate his tall frame), a desk, wall shelves, a cupboard, a tiny make-shift kitchen, and cramped bathing unit. But it’s enough for Yoonoh as long as he can have his own space and carry out his ‘project’ without his parents’ watchful eyes.

He gains permission from his landlord to paint the room black (he’d later change it to cobalt blue during summer holiday for a ‘breath of color’ as his mother has put it), and jarring contrast to it is his white furniture. He installs extra shelf on the wall beside his bed, buys some empty white frames (“for aesthetic,” he has reasoned with his confused mother), and another cupboard to store all his photography equipment.

The place didn’t immediately feel like home until _Yoonoh_ starts spending most of the day cramped on the desk area, fingers working tirelessly between editing photos or catching up with SM Rookies activity. Somewhere in between, he dyes his hair a rust-shade of brown, much to his mother’s mute yet disapproving glare. Somewhere in between, he becomes _Jaehyun_ , familiar with the animated, dorky boys that he can only see via the screen of his laptop.

The euphoria of being a college student, of stepping on the ladder of adulthood and gaining a key to freedom, is nothing compared to when NCT U’s official debut was announced. Taeyong’s teaser was dropped (April 5th 2016, Jaehyun marked that date in every planner he has), and in the video, he was as gorgeous as Jaehyun remembers him to be, but the gauntness of his face and the hollowness of his cheeks made Jaehyun groan in frustration.

In his head he draws an image of Taeyong as he pushes himself to and beyond his limit, exerting himself to the point he forgets to eat when he’s a naturally small eater. Jaehyun condemns himself; of his failure to pursue his dream with Taeyong, but more than anything, of his incapability to stay with the elder boy when he’s having a hard time.

His grievance aside, he saves that video, sets it on repeat in his phone, and leaves his room for bookstore. Jaehyun buys the biggest 18 months journal from highly-coveted notebook brand (because Taeyong deserves the _best_ ), gets himself sandwich for quick, easy breakfast, and holes up in his room until night, scoring high and low for possible schedule, and _plans, plans, plans_. His ‘project’, his motivation, the catalyst of his interest toward photography. The only thing that keeps him going all these three years.

Jaehyun goes out again in the evening to purchase a coffee maker, and an aesthetically pleasing, ridiculously priced wall calendar. The first coffee he brewed tastes like shit, but anything that can make him stay awake so he can get _closer_ to his nearly five years-old crush is a welcomed crap.

On 6th, Jaehyun hangs the wall calendar first thing in the morning, right beside the empty white frame. He projects the content of his new, shiny black journal there. He circles ‘April 8th’, ‘April 9th’, and ‘April 15th’ respectively with red markers. With black pen he writes ‘ _NCT On Air – V-app’_ and _‘16_ _th_ _Music Feng Yun Bang Awards_ ’ under 9th. He has another calendar. A smaller wall calendar, the one he got from his studio, pales in comparison beside his tiny fridge.

Jaehyun stays awake with another shitty coffee until 7 becomes 8, and he welcomes the onslaught of emotion when he watches “7th Sense” music video. Pride. Guilt. Delight. Disappointment. Satisfaction. Remorse. They brew another bleak, ruthless blizzard in his heart. He reloads the video, absent-mindedly wondering if he could be the one who stands there instead of Hansol, or Doyoung, or even Ten with his dynamic dance.

He wonders if he didn’t bust his leg, ruined himself, and consecutively slaughtered his dream, he’d be able to fill that space beside Taeyong when the music comes to an end. The hypnotizing, languorous beat, the austere yet haunting lyrics, spins his thought darker. Still, Taeyong’s eyes were bright, scintillating obsidian, and it’s the only candle that keeps Jaehyun’s heart away from total blackout.

The sharpness of his face, the fluidity of his move, the way he lets his limbs snap to follow where the beat directs him to, tells Jaehyun that Taeyong has worked sweat and blood for this. If anyone dared slandering him, Jaehyun would make sure these people suffer the consequence (such as making them suddenly losing access to their health insurance. _Okay_ , that’s extreme, but if they test Jaehyun’s patience,  Jaehyun _has a way_ to make it work). Jaehyun would do anything in his capability to honor his effort, to worship his endeavor, and make people realize what good of a changed man Lee Taeyong is.

He goes to campus with only 2 hours of sleep, functioning mechanically by his reflex and muscle memory alone (and actual _decent_ coffee from Starbucks). Jaehyun streams “7th Sense” the whole day, even when he takes a nap in between classes. He stays awake until 9th comes, working on his school work and some editing for job. When the clock hits 0, he goes to Melon first because chart performance is more important.

His heart – heart that has been under arrest by long, long winter – palpitates loudly. For once Jaehyun can feel the whisper of spring coming. He clicks on the song title and waits with baited breathe, whole body thrumming with excitement.

The lyrics of this song, “Without You”, is written by Taeyong. Taeyong writing lyrics is not unheard of, but he usually writes for rap. To say his expectation is sky-high is understatement; it has transcends seven layers of atmosphere, and soars high to faraway, uncharted galaxy. Taeyong has always been talented, he has a knack for crafting lyrics, and Jaehyun remembers loving every single one he wrote (or maybe he’s just that smitten, a small voice in his head says).

The guitar opens the song then Doyoung’s voice comes trickling in. instead of the sweetness his voice usually carries, there’s a blue hint of pain, of sorrow and heartache. The song goes on, Doyoung’s voice replaced by Kun’s equally mournful tone before changing to Taeil’s melancholic note, words after words were thread, telling a story of broken dream and lost lover.

When the song finally comes to an end, Jaehyun lets himself cry, lets the fortified gate of his self-restraint break. He presses the heel of his palm on his eye, another hand is clutching tightly on his left chest where he believes his tormented heart to be. Jaehyun pours all of his emotions out, not caring if he suffocates himself from his amaranthine cry.

Three years; three years of keeping up a smile, three years of keeping up a front.

_“I hoped and hoped again, yet in the end I couldn’t find it,”_

Three years of not letting himself feel, three years of not letting himself reveal.

_“Look at the scars that the people who had been left behind have hidden.”_

Three years of hiding, behind the tall, meticulously built wall of practiced pretense.

_“I need your warmth; didn’t you say it was going to be okay?”_

Three years of loving someone whom he knows will never love him back.

_“I need you.”_

Three years of dreaming about someone who probably doesn’t remember him anymore.

_“Even if I close my eyes, I can feel your warmth, a step beside me,”_

Three years of giving up half of his heart for someone whose heart he had crushed with the promise he broke.

_“My companion who has been walking by my side,”_

Three years; three years of living and enduring long, relentless winter.

_“You who has given me comfort,”_

Three years. One year, of message that remained un-answered and buried under hundreds of text in his inbox.

_“I’m with you.”_

:::

Morning finds Jaehyun sleeping on the desk. He had cried himself to sleep the previous night (morning?), and when he wakes up to his clock informing him it’s barely fifteen minutes before his class, Jaehyun momentarily forgets his break down.

He still listens to “7th Sense” the whole day, the only time he doesn’t is when V-App live begins. He secures himself a spot in the corner of overpriced coffee shop, putting his best earphones on, and pretending he’s working on an assignment instead of watching some idol variety show.

Everyone is still awkward (especially Taeil, Jaehyun has difficulty holding his laugh back and just gives up in the end, earning himself attention from the entire café for his loud guffaw), but Heechul does his best to support them, and the show proceeds relatively well.

They introduce Hansol in the first episode. Taeyong doesn’t talk much, and whenever he does, Jaehyun can practically feel the creaky sound of his gear turning, unoiled and rusty. Everything of him is guarded, limited, and restrained.

His awkwardness can be passed off as first broadcast anxiety, but Jaehyun knows Taeyong even though the knowledge stops at what he’s allowed to see from three years ago. Taeyong can laugh even more open despite his awkwardness, a little bit louder albeit his shyness. Smiles a little wider in his jitters, and talks smoothly in his willies.

The screen goes black after they bid their goodbye, and the abyss-deep melancholy that has seized him last night return. His emotions are all over the place, puzzle broken, and the only way to put them together is by figuring himself. Except that Jaehyun doesn’t know where to start and he’s left with millions of similar looking pieces.

A quick glance at his opened journal reminds him NCT U is holding their first fansign today. Jaehyun is not coming, he suddenly doubts he can come to any fansign at all, nor does he have the confidence to actually start his project. Burying his face in his palms, Jaehyun sighs heavily. He has expected it to be hard, but he didn’t think it’d be _this difficult_.

A complete miscalculation that is. He thought the hardest part will be showing up in front of his old friends, signature dimpled-smile and all, but turns out there’s another factor that he forgot to count, and that being his emotions.

He predicted fear, but Jaehyun has confidence to overcome that. It’s been three years, and they surely have matured into adults. Jaehyun is sure his friends can understand his reasoning for leaving, and his act of disappearance that followed could be attributed to his larger than life ego that they’re familiar with. An honest apology would suffice.

Taeyong’s case is a little different. His continuous silence was born from Jaehyun’s fault. Had he answered Taeyong’s plea back at the hospital, Taeyong will probably have forgiven him by now. It’s not that he thinks his Hyung is petty for he knows there is nobody as merciful and magnanimous as Taeyong, but Jaehyun knows he deserves this punishment called disregard, and the only time he can let himself be pardoned, is when he has actually repented for his mistake.

All these three years he thought Taeyong resents him for leaving him alone and consequently breaking his promise. He knew Taeyong was suffering, but never once it crossed his mind that for so many reasons Taeyong suffered, one of them could be for the same one that always haunted Jaehyun’s in his wake and in his sleep.

The thing is; he loves him, with the sureness of rising sun and the fatality of its dawn.

He loves him, and it tears him apart to know he has made his loved one suffer, but at the same time his heart flutters in shade of cherry blossoms two weeks after their bloom. The flower is at its most beautiful when it falls, pinkish-white petals dancing in the air, dyeing the street warm blanket of white in place of icy snow. It’s so beautiful that it makes you want to cry, because the flower had struggled so hard just so he can bloom after a long, cold winter, to tell people that spring has finally come. Yet its life is short, lasts no longer than two weeks before they wither and scatter away. People watch its farewell with melancholic yet grateful heart; _thank you for informing us the arrival of spring, I’m sorry you have to live such a transient life_.

Jaehyun feels thankful to know that Taeyong still thinks of him, he also feels contrite for what he had done to the elder boy. He hurts him, and that is one fact that would stand still forever. But just as certain is the susurration of felicity that tickles his ears. Vivacious aria of vernal season, shy note of budding greens.

Jaehyun doesn’t want to be presumptuous, but what is he to do when the lyrics that Taeyong wrote is too similar with their circumstances?

Broken dreams, broken promises; of being left behind and waiting hands.

Of longing; that crosses distance drawn by time and connects separated two by the heart.

Of love; steadfast through the callous hands of time and strengthens them to face the pitiless rainfall of grief.

And that line, that one line that served as the last heat to melt Jaehyun’s icebound heart, makes it harder for Jaehyun to think that the song is about anything but the two of them. Everything is way too relatable, too hard in hitting home to be a mere coincidence.

“I’m with you,” Jaehyun murmurs. He flicks his gaze to his phone which screen has died due to inactivity before picking it up and logs in to his twitter account.

Goosebumps run down his spine when the screen pops from blue to black, and he presses on the circle on the top left of the screen to see his account name;

_@IMWITHU147_

It’s the name that he has decided since a long time ago, longer than when he told his parents about his newborn interest towards photography, maybe around the time when he resigned himself to the fate that his dream is not meant to be realized.

But even if he cannot walk the same path and stand on the same stage, he wants to support them – _Taeyong_ – still. So a fansite that is. It wasn’t something that came out of the blue in the middle of his desperation, no, rather on the contrary; he had carefully thought about it.

Jaehyun has his plan. Photography can be a rather fulfilling career if you done it right. It’s not a job that relies on your grades or degrees but more on your experience; though obviously degrees play a big role too since major photography school means more opportunity to work in bigger studios or agencies.

Jaehyun has successfully fulfilled those two requirements; his job from the studio garnered him contacts of big names in photography, and he’s pursuing his Bachelor of Arts degree now in one of the most prestigious arts institute of Seoul. In the future, he aspires of opening his own studio while making name for himself, but until then, he’d _hone_ his skill by actively supporting his Hyung as a fansite master.

It’s silly, his parents would probably oppose of his career choice if they knew, but they didn’t know, and in three years, Jaehyun has proven them that his hobby is profitable enough that he can afford his own place (and his expensive, _expensive_ lenses). Now Jaehyun is free to do whatever he wants to do, as long as he returns home with flying grades and other big names in his contacts, his parents won’t argue with his future plans.

“Well, I guess I should start now, huh?” Jaehyun smiles to himself and it teeters on the edge. He is afraid, nervous, he clutches his phone too tight in his jitters, but the butterflies that flock around in his stomach are flutters of red and violet, vibrant, buoyant stir of enthusiasm.

He can meet Taeyong again, soon, and Jaehyun cannot wait to make things right again.

He changes his profile picture to one of Taeyong’s teaser pictures, the one with him yawning because it reminds him of nights they used to spend together, past the 0 on the clock when Cinderella’s magic has worn off and Jaehyun was only excused to stay that long twice in a week. Taeyong, on the contrary, can stay as long as he wants.

“My parents don’t really care,” the raven who’s now sporting ice-white hair had told him, refusing to meet Jaehyung’s gaze. “As long as I make it home in one piece, I’m free to stay as long as I like.”

The younger boy frowned in the middle of finishing his drink. Later, he said, “then I will take you home if it’s okay.”

“Huh?” Taeyong looked at him, perplexed. The stars in his eyes twinkled with question and the pinkening of his cheeks made birds flap their wings noisily in Jaehyun’s stomach.

“Of course if it’s okay with you, H-“

“Okay.”

This time, it’s Jaehyun’s turn to went, “huh?”

Jaehyun thought at the time, as Taeyong blossomed like morning glory under the sweetly encouraging ray of morning light, that if there was a reason why stars are blinking in the sky and moon rotates around the earth, it would be for this boy whose smile imprisoned Jaehyun’s being in cage made of gold and diamonds. “Okay, let’s go home together, Jaehyunnie.”

Jaehyun edits his profile; ‘ _open’_ , just like the gate of spring that he finally found after his long, prolonged winter.

:::

There’s a line, stretched infinite, and there’s USB cable, tangled. And Jaehyun still finds them to be the source of his frustration. “Fuck,” he curses, fingers pulling on the blasted cord to undo the spiraling loops. “Fuck this, and you, too.”

He has to leave in six minutes and forty three seconds if he wants to make it on time for NCT U’s arrival at Music Bank, but his USB cable decides it’s a perfect day in perfect spring to be a dick of messy knots. Great, what an _equally_ perfect way to start this morning.

Jaehyun eventually leaves approximately six minutes and twenty seconds later; denim jacket with hoodie over white shirt, black pants, and whites sneakers with laces messily done, hands clutching on the straps of his camera backpack (he thanks whoever deity that had kindly whispered in his ears last night to cram his beanie in the front pocket of his bag, or he’d lose precious minutes).

Scratch white doves and butterflies, his stomach is a mess of zoo in riot, endless stampedes or freed, wild animals and panicked smaller ones. Stampeding through, small bunnies and rodents scamper around in between big, hasty legs. And Jaehyun’s heart is the snow white hamster who try to find a way out from animalistic chaos, except that it’s the crashing weight of anxiety that he’s scuffling away from.

His palm that clings on the safe handle of subway are slick with sweat, he always gets them easily but today his glands are more active than usual. Is it the effect of his ever so triathloning heart? He doesn’t know, he doesn’t bother checking with his friend from health department, or his father in that matter.

The train jolts to a stop and Jaehyun lets the sea of people bring him to the exit, sad, helpless branch in the river. He follows group of girls and boys alike; wearing masks to hide their faces and camera either readily hanging from their neck or still tucked safely in their bag.

Jaehyun’s heart does that impressive cartwheel when his destination came to view. A bar has been drawn to give the artists safe access to the building, and fans have already crowded. Looking around, Jaehyun finds a relatively quiet space to assemble his camera.

He does that with practiced ease, two years of experience guiding his hands; unscrew the cap here, press to unlock over there, some twists, and with a loud ‘click’, his camera is ready. Jaehyun zips his rucksack and lugs them securely to his back. Holding his camera tight, as tight as the sizzling nervousness that coiled in his belly, he weaves his way to the crowds.

Quick glance tells him he’s not the only male population in this area, but it’s startlingly obvious that he’s different; not only from his stature, but also from his look.

He tries to be modest here, but no one can deny the fact that there’s this crater that expands as long as the distance of earth and the moon between his physique and the guys around him. Speaking of the guys, they give him stinky look already, eyeing from head to the toe, some of them even openly scowl at his face, and Jaehyun just smiles back (which only serves to aggravate them even further when girls start giggling at his appearing dimples).

He feels like a statue in display, one carved by a new and hip young artist; criticized by the elders, adored by youngsters. For the girls are looking at him in awe, while boys are glowering at him. They probably think Jaehyun is here to hog attention from their goddess of girl groups, Jaehyun snorts; smug and bitter, if only they knew Jaehyun doesn’t have even a dust particle-size of interest toward those girls in ridiculously short skirts and sky-high heels.

He is here for someone who’s much more beautiful; someone who makes sun shines and moon glows, someone whose brightness of eyes can lit up an entire state, someone whose dance is as graceful as Queen and lionheart strong. Someone whose smile makes Jaehyun go incalescence, and lungs collapsing in his chest.

Someone bumps on his right, and it shoves him away from his daze. Sputtering, Jaehyun looks back to his surrounding, and it just happens that his eyes fall on a boy with obnoxiously-red cap and mask with his idol’s name emblazoned on the cloth. He flips Jaehyun a bird. Jaehyun opens the gate of his lions and snakes.

The boy whirls around sharply when his friend (another boy) tugs on his elbow, enthusiastically telling him of his group’s arrival. The boys are getting their cameras ready when Jaehyun - Jaehyun with his ambitiousness and hatred to lose - purposely threads his way to stand beside him, raising his shiny, sleek, _better_ and _more_ expensive camera.

The red cap gapes at him.

Jaehyun smirks. Lion roaring proud.

When his finger press the button and the familiar snaps of shutter go, however, Jaehyun forgets their vexing existence all together. In this world there’s only him and his camera; its lenses’ opening, and shutter speed. Its sensitivity of light and adjustable white balance. This is another session in the studio, the girls are his models today; his object that he has to capture in camera, but not to memorize their charms, merely another measure to sharpen his fangs.

The one person, the one solitary existence whom he wants to immortalize is yet to come. All these three years Jaehyun has endured many cycles of moon, shrouding his heart in everlasting winter, polishing his claws just for the sake of monumentalizing his splendor and bountiful-earth ardor.

That person comes after, the girls surge forward, sparkly summer rising tide. The boys lower their cameras, stepping back, but Jaehyun stands still, camera still poised to shoot and finger frozen on spot just like his whole body. There’re chains, ice biting and shackling him to the ground. There’s his throat, valve closing in, and there’s his soul, trembling like wilting leave at the leg of autumn when it’s supposed to be green shrubbery that branches out.

Mark walks in front, pink sweater and bowl-cut, Ten a couple of steps beside him; his hair has been shaved off, making him exude intimidating aura of tiger as opposed to his usual kitten-like cuteness.

Then there is Taeyong, Taeyong who paints the wall of Jaehyun’s memory and supply his cells alive. Taeyong who is oxygen to his blood. Taeyong whose dark ensemble is stark contrast against his snow-white hair, and aureate core.

His eyes, eyes that have always been Jaehyun’s genesis as much as his finale; eyes that Jaehyun has gazed into so many times, calling for him, inviting, allowing him to take a deeper peek and wider panorama, of secret that Taeyong’s scintillating star cluster harbors. His eyes, they hail in their brilliance, foreign language of celestials, alluring codes extraterrestrial. Jaehyun longs to see into them again, to decipher those ciphers, to figure Lee Taeyong inside out.

Then there is distant lounging between them, thorny path of vines called reality, and it’s the same reality that has ruled Jaehyun’s feeling as unbecoming. It reminds him of his mistake unatoned, of hospital room filled with Taeyong’s cry, of plea remained unanswered, and promise snapped broken.

It’s not a gap he can cross now, not until he offers Taeyong his apology in silver platter adorned with emeralds and rubies. So Jaehyun presses the small, black button, lets his camera go in action, and three years of experience controls his body.

His fingers move fluidly, efficient; a shift of light and turn of dial, a cast of shadow and change of aperture. Taeyong moves, waddling left and right to find the right position, cute, like penguin with big, liquified onyx eyes. He bumps into Taeil and Jaehyun coos internally, switching his focus to manual and twists his lens to sharpen the contour of Taeyong’s frame, everything else scatter into hexagonal blurs of pink, grey, and green.

They do their greeting, led by Taeyong. A girl somewhere in the front squealed, “cool!”, Jaehyun nods mentally, adjusting his shutter speed and aperture to catch every single movements as Taeyong bows.

A gruff, mocking voice jeers beside him. Possibly red cap. Probably red cap, “faggot.”

Taeyong smiles; garden of roses divine and ocean waves brilliant. Jaehyun’s heart arbalests itself to the sky, past the seven layers of atmosphere to the highest of cloud nine. His anger is forgotten, hunger quenched. The sniggers and goading words fall before they can reach his ears, black leads melt away into dust of black and grey.

Jaehyun doesn’t stop taking picture until NCT U are finally save inside the building. Girls crowd around him, sighing in awe and adoration for the boys they just witnessed. They talk about Mark’s seagull eyebrow, of Ten’s newfound manliness, of Taeil’s endearing awkwardness, of Doyoung’s friendly grin, and Hansol’s cute stumble when they climbed the stairs. In between there’s Taeyong’s name. Jaehyun in his glee is about to jump in conversation, when the taunting, horrendous return, making its presence known with booming, aggravating sound.

“Can’t believe you stan that scammer,” red cap spats, cruel smirk on his ugly, ugly face. “I hope he flops.”

Jaehyun hangs his mouth open, cloth of red fastened around his eyes, and his blood sizzles with war cry. At this stupor, the red cap continues.

“I bet he sucks dick of pretty boys like you so he can-”

 _“Whoa, stop right there!”_ Jaehyun shouts in English, startling his offender and consequently drawing everyone’s attention to him as if he’s not standing out enough with his height and previous act of photographing a boy group instead of girls.

The gears of his brain turn, fast and smooth. A way out. A punishment. Jaehyun is a man on the mission. Ruthless avenger. Now it’s the red cap’s turn to gawk at him.

“ _I’m sorry I just returned from LA after years and my Korean is still rusty,_ ” he feigns a profuse apology. Looking around with welcoming, dimpled-smile, he grabbed the boy’s hand. “ _Can anyone help? I think this guy over here tried to talk to me but I don’t understand well. He said_ ‘dick of pretty bo-’,” Jaehyun effortlessly switch to Korean and the red cap panicky draws his hand away from Jaehyun as if he’s burning coal.

Girls start whispering, throwing red cap a look akin to looking at a bug. His face flares resembling his accessory, mouth opening and closing like fish out of the water. “You-how-Wha-“

Jaehyun smiles wider, cocking his head aside in pretense confusion. With a raise of brow, deepening of dimple, he prompts, “ _well?”_

 _“I can but I don’t think he’s worth your time,_ ” a girl to Jaehyun’s right says. She’s petite, looking even smaller in her pink hoodie. Her brown tresses are cut to a bob which adds to the roundness of her face, but it compliments her well, making her look young and fresh. Jarring contrast to her cuteness is the glint of anger and dripping contempt in her eyes.

She stomps forward, barricading Jaehyun from the red cap boy. Fuming, she chomps out. “Kindly disappear. Nobody here wants to hear you saying such disgusting thing about Taeyong anymore. If you don’t like him that’s fine, I don’t like your pretty little princess either, but unlike you, I know how to keep my mouth shut. Don’t you feel sorry that your beautiful idol got to have someone as uncivilized as you as her fan? The least you can do to support her is by showing that she’s backed by people whose attitude is as good as her face. At least mine is as pretty as Taeyong’s face, and he-”

Similar flicker of agitation boils red cap’s face darker shade of scarlet. He opens his mouth, raises his hand poising to attack, but before he can do as much as voicing his fury, Jaehyun has caught his wrist in tight, bruising grip. Smile grey expanse of south pole; arctic icebound. “I don’t think you really want to hit her,” he says, smooth and perfectly articulated Korean.

Red cap seethes that Jaehyun can almost see smoke billowing up from his head. He glares back and forth between Jaehyun and the pink-hoodie girl, then his friend, the one who had taken picture with him together, starts tugging on his shoulder, hissing none so discreetly, “Donghyeon, I think that’s enough. People are staring!”

Donghyeon – previously _red cap_ – glares at his friend as well before eventually looking around. He stills immediately upon being welcomed by dozens and more pair of dagger-sharp eyes, censuring him in their mute. With one last evil scowl, he harshly snaps his hand away from Jaehyun’s clutch, cradling it and storms away with brisk, furious strides. “Let’s go, Minjun!”

The two fanboys and fansite masters of a girl group that Jaehyun suddenly pities made their exit with steam coming out from their ears. Jaehyun sees them off, mentally bids his smug farewell and hopes they got constipation for the next couple of days or three, for nobody ought to get away from slandering Taeyong like that. His blood a sizzling lava just by remembering those atrocious, cruel words, he quickly erases them from his memory and pretends he never heard anything.

Once they’re out from view, Jaehyun turns his attention to pink-hoodie, still nameless girl, worry coloring his voice. “Are you-“

“ _Are you, by any chance, NCT fansite?”_ the girl blurts out with accented English, bursting with excitement. Jaehyun goes momentarily blind from the sparkles she practically radiates.

 _“Yes. Ahh, but soon? This is my first time coming actually, I’m starting now_ ,” Jaehyun replies in smoother articulation. Pink hoodie beams like she’s made of thousand suns, Jaehyun regrets not bringing sunglasses.

 _“Really? That’s cool! Fanboy fansite master is rare, that’s really awesome!”_ she gushes her adoration out loud, leaning forward, too close for Jaehyun’s comfort but he politely unvoiced out of gratitude. After all, she had literally put herself in the line for him.

 _“Korean is fine_ ,” Jaehyun switches back to his native tongue, “I’m Yoonoh by the way, thanks for what you did back then, that’s incredible of you.”

He offers his hand for a handshake which she welcomes eagerly, tightly clasping Jaehyun’s hand in her smaller one, but the difference in size is suddenly forgotten when Jaehyun feels how strong her grip is. He mentally cringed in pain. “No, no, that’s nothing, really, that asshole, how dare he ran his ugly mouth like that about _our_ Taeyong. Ah, I’m Chaerin by the way, nice to meet you, Yoonoh-yah!”

“Nice to meet you, Chaerin-noona,” Jaehyun says with a slow smile, Chaerin’s gaze drops to his cheek where he knows his dimples are showing their full glory. Shamelessly, he asks, “is there something on my face?”

“I thought you’re good looking when I saw you earlier, but, _whoa_ , you’re really, really handsome. Like really handsome. You could have debuted as an idol if you want to. Are you sure you’re not one?”

Jaehyun might or might not have almost accidentally blurts out that it was practically the story of his life, thankfully his brain to mouth filter is working fine. He blinks down shyly at their joined hands. “Thank you, that’s really- thank you, but I’m not. Just a college student.”

“And NCT fanboy?” Chaerin wiggles her brow, merriment a twinkling star in her voice.

Jaehyun laughs cordially, “yep, a smitten one at that.”

Chaerin does a comical act of gasping and chortling at the same time. The crowd around them starts to move and for a while, her attention slips away from Jaehyun. The boy subtly keeps his distance by stepping back. “Oh, we should start to get in the line, I guess. You’re coming, too, right?”

“Umm, actually, I’m not,” Jaehyun shakes his head, smiling glumly before explaining, “I have this thing to submit for my class.”

Chaerin’s expression turns crestfallen, she sighs, “that’s a shame. You’ll miss their first broadcast.”

Jaehyun can only nod mutely, not voicing out his melancholy. Truth to be told, he really wants to but he has a promise to himself, a promise he’d keep for the sake of a future he won’t let go; a promise of not sacrificing his study. Even if it’s for the sake of the boy who makes his world go round and round until the last of his breathe. “Yeah, but I can still support them the other way,” he says reassuringly, more to himself than to Chaerin. “Stream 7th sense and spread Taeyong-hyung’s goodness to the whole world.”

The grey cloud rolls away, beam of sunlight paints honeyed color of happiness on Chaerin’s face. “Oh my God, you’re really a fanboy, Taeyong’s one at that. Me too, I run a Taeyong fansite! We really should be friends, can you give me your contact? I gotta go real quick or else I can’t get in.”

They exchanged their kakaotalk and line id mutely, efficiently. After hurried _goodbye_ s and _see you later_ s, Jaehyun finds himself alone again, the area notably emptier than before with the rest of them starting to queue up for entrance. He chats Chaerin; _say good luck to Taeyong-hyung for me <3 _, then with one last glance at the building – the building he used to envision himself be in, by the side of people who holds the other half of his heart – Jaehyun walks away.

:::

Jaehyun submits his homework, attends evening class, and when he leaves, he opens his phone to find messages from Chaerin;

_Hi, Yoonoh-yah, this is Chaerin!_

_I cheered for him so hard, my throat hurts now >_< _

_He was so good looking, so handsome, you should have seen him Yoonoh-yah keke_

Jaehyun’s eyes probably goes green from envy, probably. He chomps on his energy bar unnecessarily hard that his teeth click instead.

_Hi, Chaerin-noona^^_

_I bet, Taeyonggie-hyung is always perfect TT_

_Ah, I wish I could go TT why can’t I go_

_TT_

_Taeyongie-hyung TT_

_OMG Yoonoh-yah, you really like him_

_Like_

_Really, REALLY, like him don’t you?_

_I can’t believe this_

_TT TT now I’m sad for you, you sound like you genuinely like him_

He chews the last of his measly dinner, hissing, “oh, you have no idea.” Jaehyun types again,

_Of course I do TT TT TT TT_

_Taeyongie Hyung is my everything_

Truth, so much truth, Jeong Jaehyun. He makes a beeline to the lift, there are about two or three students from his class, talking about their subjects next week; being productive, having social life. Jaehyun compares them to himself and how he’s chatting with practical stranger about his long time crush who’s now officially debuting as idol. Not pathetic, he’s being _productive_ too.

_Keke you REALLY like him_

_I’m glad I met you! I know NCT has fanboys too, but they’re not like you. You’re different. I mean, you’re a fansite master_

_Starting today :)_

_I haven’t edited my photos at all_

_No preview either_

_:O does it make me a bad fansite?_

_Yes_

_No, no of course not. Not ‘yes’ to that_

_TT that’s right, I’m bad. I didn’t even watch their first broadcast live_

_Was Taeyongie-hyung good?_

_It’s okay, you just started._

_Vocal needs improvement :) But his dance, God, Yoonoh-yah, you gotta see that live_

_He’s so_

_Sexy_

_I don’t know, so good_

_Ah, I love him TT TT Taeyongie_

The elevator door slides open with a ding and robotic-female announcement. Jaehyun’s feet root himself to the spot, the other three students walk ahead before him. He pays them no mind, staring at his phone screen where chats after chats from Chaerin continue popping.

He wants to tell her he _knows_ , wants to tell her he has seen Taeyong dancing; not just live but up-close, right beside him, dripping sweat with every snap of his limbs and joints. He has seen Taeyong trying to perfect a dance, when he still cannot easily remember which hands to go first and which leg to fall backward. He has seen how beautiful his dancing is albeit imperfect, missing a step or two and ended abruptly with growl of frustration.

He has seen them, until three years ago when he busted his leg trying to do the same thing, which consequently drew an infinite length between them. Taeyong has always been far ahead and he’s lagging behind, but now the distance has grown even greater than Jaehyun can barely see Taeyong’s shoulder anymore. He thinks it’s okay, too, separated like this; like Altair and Vega. And Jaehyun is Vega, unable to see his Altair for the promise he violated. His time has stopped, in that day, in that page unturned; in that same page he refused to turn.

He has seen them; his dance, and Taeyong, Taeyong who stands there in all his glory beyond the shimmering milky way, Taeyong whom he chases after in his dream of endless white, _Taeyong_ , Taeyong who-

“Excuse me,” a hesitant voice snaps him out from his reverie. Jaehyun jerks his head upward, meeting her tentative gaze. “Umm, are you getting in are not?”

The brunette blinked, perplexed, before quickly ducking his head, cheeks flaming with embarrassment at realizing his blunder. “Yes. Sorry. Thank you. Excuse me. Sorry,” he sputters.

He crams his tall built to the corner of small elevator, when he checks his phone again, Chaerin is inquiring of his well-being.

_Yoonoh-yah?_

_Yoonoh-yah, are you there?_

_You okay?_

_:(_

_I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable_

_We just met, and I_

_Sorry :(_

_I’m just happy to meet Taeyong fan, fanboy_

_Because you know him_

_And that rumor, so_

_If I made you uncomfortable, I’m so sorry_

Jaehyun’s heart stumbles at her apology. She did nothing wrong, it’s Jaehyun, it’s always Jaehyun who has to apologize for everything; for breaking his promise and for leaving without words, for hurting Taeyong and leaving him alone. For-

_Are you free?_

He finds himself typing. The elevator comes to a halt, everyone made their exit and Jaehyun is the last. When he steps out from his campus building, he’s greeted by the crisp air of early spring, there’s a whiff of food somewhere, mingled by the scent of newly budding green. Jaehyun feels his stomach growling.

_Yoonoh-yah!_

_I am, yes._

_Let’s talk if you don’t mind_

_Want to meet up?_

_About Taeyong_

_Yes_

_I’m starving :)_

_\ o / Okay! Okay, let’s meet up_

_Where to?_

_Where?_ Jaehyun’s mind wanders, down the lane of memory, of nights spent after long, gruesome days of training. Of nights where they’re too famished to care about the regime the agency had imposed upon them, of saying whatever to pimples that’d pop on their face the next day if they ate too many greasy food. Of weaving through the crowd of street food stalls at night, sharing piping hot egg-bread and fishcake with red bean filling together.

_How about sandwich?_

As much as Jaehyun wants to, he doesn’t want to relive that memory. Not without Taeyong.

:::

Chaerin is still wearing her pink-hoodie when she comes to Jaehyun hogging the table at the back corner with his humongous bag, jacket, and opened laptop. “Hi!” she says, breathless. Her cheeks are as pink as her clothes, and Jaehyun feels bad imagining her running from wherever she is from all the way here.

“Hello, Chaerin,” he greets her in return then motions for her to sit down with his unoccupied hand, the other dragging the mouse to tick off the box of layer mask. “Go ahead and make your order, I’ll keep watch on your belongings.”

She nods, enthusiastic, and just as high-spirited, she leaves her bag on the chair and blitzes away to the counter. Jaehyun smiles at her antics, with her small stature and energy, she really resembles a puppy.

He waits for her while working away, editing photos of Taeyong he has taken today. In every single frame, Taeyong is beautiful. It feels surreal to be this close again with his face – albeit still on screen – after years of pinning without actually seeing him, and Jaehyun had his moment of staring dazedly at his hyung’s picturesque face.

This, he thinks, is what he’ll be living from now on; an illusion of being able to be close to Taeyong while in fact they’re separated by length only crossable by lenses.

When Chaerin returns with her tray of sandwich and tall beverage, she’s still as chirpy like birds in the morning. “Hi! Hello! Yoonoh-yah, sorry for taking so long! The _ajumma_ before me was being kind of annoying; she kept changing her order until the last minute.”

“That happens,” Jaehyun chuckles. He shifts his laptop to give Chaerin some space, the silvery edge knocking on his own tray. “Wait a minute, I just need to finish editing this…”

“Is that your photo?” Chaerin perks up, pausing in the middle of unwrapping her dinner. “Like; _fansite_ photo?”

“It is,” Jaehyun answers, suddenly growing bashful. He has people seen his works million times before, but for some reason, he feels incredibly shy now. Maybe because in his previous works, he never really put his heart in it, but this time; this time with Taeyong as his focal, he literally bares all of him for everyone to see. His adoration, his devotion, his infatuation, and unspoken passion.

“Can I see?” She doesn’t even beat around, damn it.

Timidly, Jaehyun turns his laptop so Chaerin can get a full view of the screen with photo editor software opened. Her already big eyes go impossibly rounder upon seeing Jaehyun’s technically work in progress. “Holy- God, Yoonoh-yah, you are- _whoa_ , incredible! Are you sure this is your first time doing this?”

“Fansite, yes,” Jaehyun’s laugh is caught in his throat in the middle; the bitten straw judges him mutely. “Photography, no. I’ve been working in studio as assistant photograper and junior instructor for a couple of years actually.”

Chaerin’s mouth hangs open, the way she blinks her eyes so rapidly reminds Jaehyun of cartoon characters. “How- why- _yah_ , Yoonoh-yah, you really should tell me how you ended up as NCT fanboy, a Taeyong fanboy on top of that!”

Jaehyun tells her then, of story half constructed from truth and half of lies.

He tells her of taking photography class here and there, tells her of his years helping his instructor out before his talent was recognized and he took him in as assistant slash apprentice.

He tells her about his dream of having his own studio, too, that part makes her sigh in admiration and Jaehyun blushes brilliant shade of red, starts chewing on his straw again to alleviate his nervousness.

Those parts, they’re real. A factual piece of Jaehyun’s life. The next part, however, has a ring of truth as much as a lie, a tale he has carefully fabricated in his mind when he was on his way to campus from the TV station.

“I’m acquaintance of Taeyong-hyung,” he drops the bomb. “Sort of.” Missing its target, wrong pull of trigger.

A beat of silence stretches, Chaerin gives him a blank stare, a piece of soggy lettuce falls from between her sandwich, sad and wilting, like Jaehyun under the scrutiny of his abused straw.

He wiggles in his seat, “umm…”

Chaerin’s expression melts, turning into one of amusement with a choked out laugh. She reaches to pat Jaehyun twice on the shoulder, grinning, “yeah, yeah, you’re so whipped, aren’t you?”

The redness of Jaehyun’s face rivals the tomato sauce that Chaerin has squirted on her dinner earlier, “I-“

“It’s okay, I got it. I mean, yeah, okay, Yoonoh-yah, anything you want,” she says with a giggle.

“Fine if you don’t want to believe me,“ Jaehyun pouts, affronted at not being taken seriously but at the same time, he’s glad. He hopes the next people who heard this would react the same – not taking him seriously – so he doesn’t have to deal with overly curious people who’d corner him to get the truth, and truth is not something Jaehyun is willing to give.

Chaerin snickers fondly, “so, how did you know Taeyongie, really?”

Jaehyun resumes his story, still insisting part of him knowing Taeyong personally – because it is true – Chaerin takes his claim with grain of salt, but she hangs on his other words. Jaehyun spins a story of a boy who misses his acquaintance (crush), unable to meet him due to their separating circumstances (Jaehyun’s leg injury and his resignation from SM, Taeyong who’s too busy climbing to the top to care), and now after finding out he’s in an idol group, he’s out there to support him (true, true, true, _true_ ).

“If that’s true that’s really sweet,”  Chaerin sighs dazedly. “Like, romantic, really.”

Jaehyun wants to tell her it’s true; as true as past irrevocable and tomorrow’s arrival undeniable. But he doesn’t, zip it in his memory and store it only for himself to see. He smiles at her instead, strained on the edge but unless you know Jaehyun well enough, it is impossible to recognize the difference. “Taeyong-hyung deserves the best after all.”

Chaerin nods eagerly, “true to that, only the best for Taeyongie!”

They continue their talk, topic branching out to many things but always converge back into one, with Lee Taeyong a constant focus in the center. She runs a fansite called “eterniTY”, which Jaehyun gives an incredulous gasp at because he’s been following her for months, cooing at adorable pictures she took of Taeyong.

They talk, talk, and talk; of Taeyong and his dance, of Taeyong and his rap, of Taeyong and the discrepancy between image his agency made for him and the actual him, of Taeyong and his diamond-sharp jaw and his night-sky eyes.

Of Taeyong and Jaehyun’s unhidden worship of him, and his heart flutters at a mere fact that he never talked about Taeyong to anyone before. After three years of unending winter, Jaehyun tries believing that spring has eventually come.

:::

Jaehyun’s days consist of attending campus like diligent student with straight _A_ s and dedicating his time that he doesn’t use to work for Taeyong.

Chaerin helps promoting his new account by retweeting a couple of his photos. His follower counts increase day by day, and Jaehyun cannot be any happier even if he can barely stay away at class for his sleep is averaging between three to four hours a day. He manages to pull through by shitty coffee every morning and the thought that Taeyong must have had it harder than him with long training hours and other schedules to attend.

They have viewable radio scheduled at 21st and Jaehyun has promised Chaerin he’d come after making sure his lecturer will be absent for afternoon class. He is in the middle of brewing another shitty coffee (he has given up any attempt to make it decent at all, dumps all the milk and the sugar, and he’s done) when his phone rings NCT U’s 7th Sense.

Jaehyun feels his stomach dropping at the sight of his instructor’s name, white letter printed on green. With apprehension, he picks it up, “Hello?”

His fear turns into reality. A photographer has filed in absent today for sudden injury and his instructor needs someone to fill in for him because he apparently has a session scheduled. “Please, Yoonoh, I’m still at Jeju for shooting, and Junghee is out of commission today.”

With heavy heart, he agrees to help, a lot of “ _it’s okay_ ,” spilling for his mouth at his boss’ apology.

_I can’t come, sorry_

_Σ_ _(‘◉_ _⌓_ _◉’)_

_TT TT_

_TT TT TT WHY_

_Something urgent came up_

_Take lots of pretty pictures for me_

_TT TT_

_Okay (_ _；´д｀_ _)_ _ゞ_

_Take care_

_Thank you, Chaerin-noona <3 _

_TT this is sad_

_Leave it to me (_ _；´д｀_ _)_ _ゞ_

_I’m counting on you eterniTY master-nim /o\_

_Yah, Yoonoh-yah, you and Taeyong-hyung are seriously star crossed lover_

_(_ _｡•́_ _︿_ _•̀｡_ _)_

_This is getting really sad TT TT_

_I’m listening to Red Velvet’s “One of these Night”_

_Yoonoh-yah, that’d be your and Taeyongie’s song from now on TT TT TT TT_

_TT TT_

A star crossed lover, Jaehyun thinks, so fitting, just like how he had imagined himself and Taeyong a couple of days ago. Vega and Altair, separated by gilder river of milky way, distance uncrossed until moon wanes and waves twelve times. Until summer decides to set their foot on the earth again through the animated dance of golden sunlight and longer days.

Summer. July. July begins with Taeyong’s birthday. A day that Jaehyun had celebrated everyday with fervent prayers, wishes of happiness for the moon that shines on the sky.

Moon resembles Taeyong; moon _is_ Taeyong. Silver hole in the sky, serene glow of tides rising and falling. Shy, as it goes into hiding behind the secretive curtain of night, but still there, always there and never going away. A permanent fixture of luminous spherical sea. A longing so eternal, for the moon always gazes at the earth the same way earth aches for her, but gravity is law unforgiving, keeping them apart at established length that’s frustratingly not close and neither far away.

And in summer, stars celebrate as earth coordinates itself to their stage. Stars festive on the sky, endless glimmer of iridescent on vibrant sapphire. Altair will meet Vega then, aligned, reunited by bridge of opalescent celestial pearls and diamonds. Will Jaehyun be reunited with Taeyong then? Or the two of them are earth and the moon, destined for immortal parting?

But summer is still far away. The spring in Jaehyun’s heart still has the chill of long-remained winter. And Jaehyun supposes that indeed, winter still cannot let him go; a clingy ex-lover with sharp, brittle nails.

The photo schedule turned out to be ‘ _schedules’_ instead of ‘ _schedule_ ’, Jaehyun had to tend to three customers in a row; one a family of four with two rowdy twins (who are _so_ adorable that they curb Jaehyun’s ire away), one a couple who wants to finish their remaining indoor pre-wedding photo, and one is a girl who needs her photo taken for audition.

When his work finally ends, sky has been painted in starless dark cobalt. Jaehyun tightens his jacket to protect himself from the biting breeze, his breath comes out in a puff, seems like weather is not in the mood to be kind today. He fishes out his phone from his pocket, eager to catch up with what he’s missing since he was too busy to do anything that’s not work related.

There’s notification of message from Chaerin and Jaehyun opens that first, expecting to see pictures of Taeyong flooding his screen. What greets him instead, is a stinging slap to the face.

_Fuck_

_Fuck it, Yoonoh-yah, I’m sorry I’m cursing but_

_TT TT TT_

_This is so frustrating TT TT our Taeyongie_

_Yoonoh-yah he cried_

_Cried_

_TT TT TT TT TT TT TT TT_

_And they shit on him_

_Ah, I can’t take this_

_TT TT TT TT TT TT TT TT TT TT TT TT TT TT TT TT_

_Yoonoh-yah, I’m so angry_

_Why must they do that to Taeyongie?_

_He didn’t do anything wrong this time, hadn’t he apologized?_

_Why did people_

_Why TT TT_

To say he’s shocked is understatement. Jaehyun feels dizzy all of the sudden, blood freezing and rushing to his head at the same time. The ground is unsteady beneath his feet, cracking slowly as if it’d cave in with the slightest movement. His only anchor is his phone – docking him to immobile sand underwater. With trembling fingers, Jaehyun types;

_What’s wrong, Noona?_

_Taeyongie-hyung cried?_

_?? Why?_

_What happened??_

_???_

_!! Yoonoh-yah_

_TT TT_

Chaerin tells him then, about the radio show and the way Taeyong had been treated. About his words that kept on being aborted and his awkward edginess. About how the other members had tried to involve him to the conversation, but even then, his words were stunted, smile was strained. And then they had to make him speak about his family, ill-intention poorly concealed like red, ugly pimples peeking through from beneath cheap, drugstore concealer.

 _“Taeyong, you seems have a lot to say_ ,” the female MC had prompted. Taeyong, Taeyong with purplish white hair and peeking dark roots, Taeyong with drawn in shoulder had shifted on his seat, said Chaerin. Taeyong tried speaking, three times, and she cut him all three times. Smile on her face.

 _“Don’t tell that_ ,” she had said, _“sincere message to your family_.” Forceful. Insistent.

And when Chaerin reaches the part about how Taeyong had faltered in his sentences, how he had pressed the heels of his palm on his eyes to keep his tears at bay, Jaehyun feels like throwing his phone to the ground in his scorching-hot anger. He is a volcano, growling and active, ready to hurl the content of his sizzling stomach any time. A brewing storm, malevolent catastrophe.

He clenches his jaw so hard that his teeth clicked together painfully, heart rates increasing, blood broiling red in his veins. The torrent of emotion in his heart is brutal, dull, unfeeling knife, digging into his flesh, deep and deeper. It kills him slowly, excruciatingly, yanking him inside out to every possible direction. Jaehyun is trapped in the middle, like dying branch dragged by the current.

There’s sadness; bleak and blue like winter wasteland. There’s rage; vivid and sanguine like blood. Within him they crash in the middle, violent blast of contrasting vehemence. Ice meets cold. And one would crack, but Jaehyun cracks in their place instead.

Taking in a shuddering breath, releasing a trembling one. Bricks by bricks, Jaehyun lets his composure fall, they smash to the ground with galling noise of thunderclaps. A sob wretches itself +from his mouth, this time, he says goodbye to the railing and throws himself away. He crumbles, house of cards under the wind, scattered, billowing away.

Jaehyun folds his legs to crouching position, his phone falls from his hand but it’s the last thing in his mind. He grabs fistful of hair in frustration, clutching them hard that he could practically yank them off his head.

Jaehyun cries, cries, and cries. And it’s choking him, suffocating him like someone has coiled a frigid, sturdy chain on his neck. It’s painful, and there’s a burn that refuses to stop licking hotly on his already singed heart. There are hands, barbarous and adamant, grappling for his heart from every directions and trying to tear it apart.

There are comments; infinite in number and is still growing. There are hatreds; hideously sewn together yet justified by revolting bias. There is mistake of a past; grotesque, like scabbed scar that wasn’t treated immediately and refused to dry.

In the middle there is Taeyong. In the center of this maelstrom of revolt and scorn, there is Taeyong.

Taeyong who works harder than anyone Jaehyun has ever seen, Taeyong who always stayed behind two hours later after everyone left. Taeyong who had twisted his legs and broke his fingers too many times to count just to get the dance sequence right.

Taeyong who had practiced until his throat sore to get the right flow of his rap. Taeyong who had done something stupid in the past but has seen the error in his judgement. Taeyong who has been given a second chance to prove himself when he was scouted by the agency.

Taeyong who doesn’t seem to have that many place to come home until he became a trainee.

Taeyong who swallowed Jaehyun’s lie. Taeyong who had accepted his friendship. Taeyong whose cold exterior betrays the warmth of his inside. Taeyong and his nervous laugh. Taeyong and his awkward joke. Taeyong and his clumsy hands. Taeyong and his- _Taeyong,_

Taeyong who didn’t – doesn’t – answer his message until today, but maybe, answers Jaehyun he did. Through the song he didn’t sing, through the melody he didn’t string.

Jaehyun fumbles around for his phone, he picks it up, wiping his tears and snot with unoccupied hand. There’re messages from Chaerin, he ignores them, scrolls down his inbox until it hits the bottom where _‘Taeyongie-Hyung’_ name sits. A throne buried under. A box he refused to open.

Nearly two years later, Jaehyun finally has the courage to unlock it. Carefully with trembling fingers, he inserts the key, presses the name, and when the screen shifts to an empty window, he bursts into technicolor of sentiments.

There beside the only message he dared sending two years ago, there are four letters woven into one; _read_.

Feeling himself starting to sob again, Jaehyun types slowly with fingers that shake as much as his wretched soul;

_I’m with you_

_I’m always here with you_

Jaehyun has always believed, in the confine of everlasting winter, that the answer is spring. Maybe it’s spring indeed, but Jaehyun’s spring is different. It comes, halted, aborted. And this time, it comes too, even if it’s as simple as blink of _‘read’_ beside his message, spring has actually come.

:::

Jaehyun refuses to talk about the radio with Chaerin, “let’s just talk about happy things, yeah?” he says, obviously evading the topic.

Chaerin gives him understanding look before nodding solemnly. Jaehyun avoids any online post about Taeyong altogether, Chaerin actively defends Taeyong’s honor by tirelessly writing good comments about him and downvoting unfavorable ones. Jaehyun envies her a little for her dedication, and bravery, for Jaehyun doesn’t have the courage of facing hatred directed toward Taeyong for it’d just remind him of his blues.

But Taeyong is even braver. Defying the downpour of maliciousness, he stands strong, beautiful and proud like lion. He dances on stage with commanding presence, grace that captivates every seeing eyes. He smiles on every public appearance although still a little bit strained sometimes, Jaehyun quietly murmurs his cheer, sending his prayer, “it’s okay. You will be okay,” as he continues taking pictures.

His fansite activity is going smoothly. His follower count grows everyday, and he befriends another two fansite masters.

Na Junghwa who runs “Lucky 7” is the same age of Chaerin, she’s bubbly girl who tends to be ditzy at times, but overall, she’s lovely (she’s secretly Jaehyun’s favorite for she never fails to bring honey butter chips to their gatherings).

Heong Sodam is five years older than Jaehyun, she lives alone in a room a little bit more spacious than Jaehyun’s cheap rent, (but far from subway), her fansite is “Altyair”, and Chaerin had joked about how Taeyong is Altair to Jaehyun’s Vega. Jaehyun unceremoniously choked on his white chocolate frappe.

It’s nice to have friends he can talk about his crush with – even though the correct term here would be ‘ _fangirling’_ and _‘fanboying’_ in Jaehyun’s case. Jaehyun tells Sodam and Junghwa about being acquainted with Taeyong. They give him dubious look, exchanging that said look with each other, before directing it at amused Chaerin.

“See, when you thought you’re whipped, someone here is even more whipped,” she says with a cackle.

They end up giving Jaehyun the same sympathetic pat on each of his shoulders, shaking their heads in mirth. “You got it hard, boy,” Sodam says. Jaehyun pouts and sucks noisily on his chewed straw. Secretly, he’s glad they didn’t prod on. But he’s still affronted, okay, because they sometimes would look at Jaehyun and giggle like Jaehyun is a mad man. He is not mad, just a little bit delusional, according to them.

Everything is good for a while, exuberant spring days with upbeat weather. The four of them strengthen their bond by spending ‘quality time’ together, aka binge watching NCT’s old videos or cooing over Taeyong’s adorableness.

The peace was disturbed when Jung Eunji from APink won Inkigayo, then – no offense to his sunbae, but Jaehyun is livid – that turtle face with honey vocal Yesung has to drag Taeyong, out of all people, with him while he hogs all attention by waving shamelessly to his fans behind Eunji, who’s supposed to be under the limelight for her victory.

Fandoms band together to diss Taeyong. Jaehyun’s chat with the four girls (named as _“tiyongie”_ ) are on fire. Jaehyun’s phone beeps with endless notification, probably Junghwa stringing words of litany endlessly.

Sodam is rather quiet when something like this happens, opting to post beautiful pictures of Taeyong and encouraging words. Chaerin is the passive aggressive type who somehow manages to multi-task in between doing what both of Sodam and Junghwa do.

Jaehyun, trapped in his workplace, furiously clicks downvote on every malicious comment while chatting his friend from law major on different window screen.

_Yah, Yoon Taeoh_

_It’s me Yoonoh_

_I need your help, quick_

_What’s with that greeting_

_At least greet me properly if you need my help_

_Yah, Lord Almighty Yoon Taeoh_

_Help me_

_Please_

_I beg of you_

_I’m on my knees_

_Kekekeke_

_Okay_

_How are you?_

_What do you need?_

_I’m noooot fine_

_I’m angry_

_Seriously_

_??_

_What happened?_

_Dude, don’t tell me you got into trouble_

_I’m not getting your rich-ass off the jail_

Jaehyun clicks his tongue, half in amusement half in frustration. Should he feel affronted his friend thought he’s doing something problematic that could lead him ended up in jail?

_Aish, I’m serious_

_I’m not in jail, fyi_

_Hdu_

_Thank god_

_What’s wrong then?_

_Like, can you_

_Sue people who leave hate comment online?_

There’s a pause that lasts longer than Jaehyun expected. He downvotes six other comments. He flips to twitter and reports seven other accounts.

_Yoon Taeoh???_

_What hate comment?_

_I mean, technically you can, but_

_Did anyone say bad abt your father or?_

_No, no, not about my dad_

_YES_

_Okay tell me how_

_Who then? Are you related with them in some way?_

Jaehyun almost furiously types that yes, he is related with them in _some_ way indeed. He was this person’s friend until three years ago until he wrecked his leg and resigned from his agency. He technically – or at least he hopes so – inspired this person to write such sad, heartbreaking lyrics. This person holds the key to his heart, heck, this person holds half of it. Instead, he types;

_No no_

_NCT U_

_NCT_

_You know NCT??_

_What city?_

_Dude, NCT_

Jaehyun sends him their official page, then for whatever reason he doesn’t understand, also sends link to his fansite.

_You know???_

_Shit_

_Idol group_

_Jeong Yoonoh, are you telling me you are a fanboy now?? Of a boy group?_

_Hell, I run that fansite_

He sends a picture of Taeyong on impulse. His coworker, Heejin, asks him if he wants anything since she’s going to convenient store for snacks. “Honey butter chips, please, Noona. Five.” Heejin gives him a judging look but says nothing. She leaves in a breeze.

_Holy fuck_

_Shit_

_Oh my God_

_Are you Jeong Yoonoh??_

_Wait_

_Wait_

_Wait_

_Don’t tell me all those photography shit_

_Stfu photography is not shit_

_And I genuinely love it_

_Though, okay, the motive wasn’t that genuine_

_Holy_

Taeoh leaves some more expletives that Jaehyun ignores, and he wonders who’d win between him and Junghwa, they’re both quiet creative.

Maybe he could hook them up, _hmmm_.

_I’m serious, Taeoh_

_Can I sue for him???_

_Like_

_Seriously_

_I have money_

_Jeong Yoonoh_

_I didn’t_

_Whoa_

_Daebak_

_Whoa_

_Daebak is Lee Taeyong_

_How can I sue for him???_

_I’m sorry but this is really, really, really unexpected_

_I need a moment_

_Whoa_

_TT TT_

_Please Taeoh_

_Taeyongie-hyung must be hurting with all of these_

_I know he did bad thing in the past, but he has changed_

_TT TT he doesn’t have to deal with this anymore_

_…._

_Dude, Yoonoh, you are seriously_

_About this Lee Taeyong guy_

_Holy hell_

_If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re in love with him_

_I am_

Jaehyun curses his too honest fingers and suddenly deactivating mouth to brain filter. Or maybe; brain to finger filter, this is digital age, the term should be popularized more. He prays that Taeoh would take his ‘love’ as ‘fan to idol’ love, well, both are technically true; Jaehyun loves him as person to person as much as he loves him as fan to idol.

_Ffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffuck_

_Fuck you, Jeong Yoonoh_

_Okay, okay_

_I’m clam_

_*calm_

_Then help me TT TT_

_Okay, I’m your friend, a good friend_

_And, umm, I don’t know if this can help, but-_

Jaehyun screencaps his chat with Taeoh after ending the conversation with lots of kissy emoticons. Taeoh’s last message;

_Wait, wait, did you turn down those confession because of him????_

he leaves it unanswered. He sends the screencaps to “ _tiyongie_ ”. The girls floods the chat with various reaction, Jaehyun doesn’t immediately respond to them. He scrolls down his kakaotalk again until it hits the bottom, without thinking, he sends another message; the very same thing he only seems capable of saying, but this time with variation;

_I’m with you_

_It’s going to be okay_

He closes the chat, and before opening _“tiyongie”_ he catches one last message from Taeoh;

 _I kind of get you, I mean he IS pretty_.

Jaehyun laughs.

:::

Season comes and season goes. May leaves, and June arrives with occasional tinkering rain. Jaehyun feels more lethargic than ever, his left leg aches from phantom pain. His condition always turns bad whenever summer draws close, doctor said it’s his unconsciousness doing, without him realizing, his body remembers the exact surrounding when his leg decided to give up on him. It’s a psychological thing, and it doesn’t really hinder his activity, so Jaehyun had turned down the offer for therapy.

June drags on, Jaehyun busies himself with study with the upcoming final. He misses some NCT activity but his girls are supportive as always, supplying him with pictures and information so Jaehyun doesn’t feel left out. He pays them back by always bringing them his cooking. His coffee might be disaster incarnate, but his cooking is heaven materialized.

They still tease him about his unabashed crush on Taeyong, too. “What do you think about Yutae? I’ve been into Yutae lately,” Junghwa says in one peaceful Sunday morning, when Jaehyun is too exhausted from his campus work and for once, spared from his job at studio. They have agreed to meet up to celebrate his momentary freedom and cheer him up.

Jaehyun feels the muscle on his face twitching, he chomps on his quiche, the second food he ordered since he arrived here two hours prior. “no comment,” he huffed petulantly.

The other three laugh at his apparent avoidance. “But seriously, aren’t they cute together? Yuta teases Taeyong a lot, and he says Taeyong is the one who helps him the most. Isn’t it just, precious?” Junghwa continues gushing out, sighing dreamily by the end of her sentence.

Chaerin gives Jaehyun a knowing look, mirth dancing in her eyes. Sodam wisely chooses to be quiet by taking an equally quiet sip of her latte.

“Yeah, except Yuuta-hyung speaks in _satoori_ , Taeyongie-hyung doesn’t even have an accent,” Jaehyun blurts out, losing to the taunting of ugly, green jealousy.

“How do you know? Oh, I forgot, you _know_ him,” this time the taunting comes in form of Na Junghwa. Jaehyun bites on his straw this time, the plastic cup gazes pityingly at his companion.

“Fuck, yeah, I do,” he bristles, too much truth, but for nobody to believe. It’s fine. He thinks it’s fine, they don’t have to know the many nights he had spent with Taeyong’s company, huddled up close to him as they rehearse their lyrics together. “And he speaks in Busan dialect, Hansol-hyung is from Busan.”

“Oooh, that’s my ship,” Sodam states with calm interest. All her mannerism speaks of composure, but the sparkle in her eyes is unmistakable glee. “And _Yooyong_ is my ship too,” she turns that twinkling gaze to Jaehyun, who looks at her with unhidden confusion.

“Yooyong?”

“That,” Chaerin dives in, leaning forward with huge grin on her face, “means Yoonoh and Taeyong. Yooyong. Got it?”

Jaehyun gapes at the two of them, a piece of unchewed quiche flops ungracefully from his mouth. Junghwa recoils in disgust but Sodam just giggles prettily behind her hand, and Chaerin chortles out loud, tossing her head back. “What the fuck?”

“I can’t help it, Yoonoh-yah. You love him so much – _too_ much- it’s cute, really. If I didn’t know you, I’d declare myself as Taeyong’s biggest fan, but I know you, Yoonoh-yah, you’re so, so smitten with him,” Chaerin pats his hair. Sodam mutely pushes the mess Jaehyun accidentally made on the table using Jaehyun’s fork.

“That’s still gross,” Junghwa says, eyes lingering at the yellow piece of soggy dough, before turning to Jaehyun, face taking one hundred and eighty degrees turn. She chirps, “seriously, Yoonoh-yah, have you seen yourself in the mirror when you fawn over him?”

Jaehyun doesn’t because he can already see it even without the help of seeing glass.

Thunder-struck. Love-struck. He remembers a long time ago Johnny had teased him, saying he looked at Taeyong like Taeyong is brighter than sun and moon combined.

He assumes it’s still the same, hopes it’s still the same. And prays that Taeyong still remembers how he had looked like when he’s gazing at his Hyung’s face too. Dear and lovely, a happy memory, a reminder that despite his weeping scar there’s still someone who adores him, even if that someone had went ahead and carved another scar on his skin.

“And you’re good looking,” Chaerin adds. “So, so, good looking, Yoonoh-yah. You two make a perfect pair.”

Sodam agrees, stealing a piece of quiche from Jaehyun’s plate. “Visual couple.”

“Unnie, now you make me want to see Yoonoh-yah meeting Taeyongie,” Junghwa moans, “and, shit, you two would look really, _really_ good together, you know. Visual explosion. Yutae who? Ah, goodbye my ship, goodbye.”

Jaehyun gives the wailing girl smug look; approving. “Yes, goodbye to them. Say hello to Yusol, Solyu-“

“Solyu,” Sodam corrects him.

“-Solyu!” Jaehyun cheers, throwing his hands in the air with manic cackle. Heart accelerating in speed, because he realizes there is question unspoken, a question the girl always has for him. A question he doesn’t want to answer because even if Taeyong has read his messages, Jaehyun is still a coward.

“And Yooyong,” Chaerin, the ever so steadfast and persistent Chaerin. Stubborn Chaerin. Damn Chaerin. “Should really meet each other. What do you think of coming to a fansign, Yoonoh-yah?”

Jaehyun drops his gaze to half-eaten quiche, which now has become three quarter-eaten quiche. Sodam was quick, _damn_ her, too. “I came, I came too. To a fansign,” Jaehyun tries not to fumble with his words and fail miserably.

“Yeah, just to take photos from afar, never actually getting any sign at all,” Chaerin states. Jaehyun seeks refuge from his drink, cries internally when he realizes he’s out of it.

“I need to get another-“ he tries to get up, a measly attempt of running away.

Sodam catches his wrist with strength that you wouldn’t know she possesses from her dainty mannerism. She smiles, eyes crinkling, no encouraging warmth whatsoever. Just command; unbidden, fatal command. Jaehyun mutely sits down.

“You really, really should come, Yoonoh-yah,” Chaerin presses on. “Really.”

Jaehyun doesn’t meet her gaze, doesn’t meet Sodam’s wordless calculative gaze or Jungwha’s puzzled ones either. He stares at his empty cup instead, the ice cubes silently stares back; cold, like the dread that slowly climbs up his throat at the thought of meeting Taeyong face to face.

Sodam tugs on his wrist, “Yoonoh.”

Jaehyun swallows. “Okay.”

:::

NCT 127’s debut was announced, along with NCT Life in Seoul.

The exact day Taeyong’s teaser was dropped, Jaehyun gushed on twitter for hours before impulsively going to the hairdresser. He shows Taeyong’s picture and boldly tells the guy who tends him to cut his hair in similar way, “make it so we’re mirror image of each other,” he says with no hint of shame in his voice. The guy practically gapes at him. “Dye my hair black too, while we’re at it.”

He gapes, still.

Jaehyun feels the urge to tap one long finger on his cheek.

He doesn’t.

“Can you?”

Firetruck music video was dropped. Jaehyun loses his shit altogether, and goes on that routine of streaming melon, bulk buying albums, and scheduling his plan for a month of promotion ahead. Chaerin subtly asks him if he’s coming to the fansign. Jaehyun subtly says no, but tells her he’s coming to their Music Bank broadcast.

When he appears, hair black, half-shaved, and side-swept, the girls gave him the similar look the hairdresser gave. Junghwa’s eyes drop to red choker circling his neck, the graphic black t-shirt under oversized white shirt left unbuttoned. Jaehyun suddenly feels shy.

“Umm,” Jaehyun sutters and does the mistake of looking around to evade his friends’ astonished gazes. Everyone – practically everyone in the venue, boys and girls alike – are looking at him with similar bamboozled expression on their faces.

Jaehyun feels _incredibly_ shy.

He already stands out normally by being the only boy in the sea of screaming girls. Now, he sticks out even more, purpling sore thumb, white in sea of black. He shuffles from left and right, ducking his chin deeper with cheeks flushing scarlet.

“Umm.”

“You’re whipped,” it’s Chaerin, she’s still looking at him bug-eyed, but at least she’s out from her daze. “Like, for Lee Taeyong, you’re whipped. So bad.”

“Seek help,” Junghwa says, grabbing at his elbow. “Like, Yoonoh-yah, I consider dyeing my hair white, too, but- okay. Seek help, Yoonoh-yah, really.”

Behind them, Sodam has closed her mouth, and she’s giving Jaehyun a look that is mixture between pity and awe. Jaehyun blushes even more at her unspoken words. Laughing nervously, he says, “yeah, yeah, later, okay?”

They get ready at their positions. The girls scored spots on the front line while Jaehyun with his height advantage, chose to stay a little at the back. NCT 127 arrives, Winwin enters first with vibrant hair, followed by Donghyuck – _Haechan_ – in gray hoodie, Yuta and his hairstyle that makes Jaehyun weep for his long-time friend, and Mark in orange shirt and equally vivid hair.

Jaehyun’s finger stills, a hawk eyeing its prey, ready to plunge and attack.

A couple of steps behind is Taeyong, purplish-white hair under black cap, simple black t-shirt and complimentary white pants. Calm. Quiet. A composed walk with steady stride that would make you think he’s done this his whole life, but the way his bangs are falling all over his face to hide  his probably quivering eyes tells Jaehyun another story.

Jaehyun lets his experience do the work for him; turn of dial, press of a button, shift of aperture, twist of focus. A well-rehearsed routine. Photography to him is dance and rap to Taeyong.

Like this, zooming at Taeyong’s face and peers at him close from behind his lens, Jaehyun’s heart twitters in happiness. A lively songbird. A happiness so miniscule and transient, but even then it’s enough to curb the slithering sadness in his guts.

He doesn’t stop taking pictures, weighty lens following Taeyong’s movement. He pauses, however, when Taeyong suddenly lags behind, pausing his step until Hansol stands beside him. And then he reaches for the small of Hansol’s back, splays his fingers there, and falls a step behind him, gently guiding the elder guy forward.

Jaehyun’s finger stills again, but this time for an entirely different reason.

He remembers practice room, remembers Taeyong laughing while holding his sides and the other clutching on Yuta’s elbow. He remembers the snake; rattled its tail and hissed its venom. The sadness that slithered in his guts transformed into the cold-blooded animal, cold, yellow beady eyes gleaming in the darkness of Jaehyun’s awakening jealousy.

He freezes on the spot, misses the chance of taking pictures of Taeyong, he sees Junghwa following them persistently despite the manager’s attempt of opening them way. Sodam would probably scold her later. Chaerin wouldn’t mind. Jaehyun, though, Jaehyun-

Jaehyun loves him, he thinks.

Jaehyun loves him, with the sureness of law of gravity. Jaehyun loves him with fatality of time and death. Jaehyun loves him, and even if he knows his call will remain unanswered, even if he knows he’s just another insignificant figment in Taeyong’s life, he loves him still.

Jaehyun loves him, but somewhere along the line he probably has resigned to the fate of never having him at all.

Jaehyun loves him, that much is sure, but if there’s anything that he isn’t sure of, it’s of giving up his chance with Taeyong at all.

:::

Jaehyun watches NCT Life in Seoul with the girls, huddled in Sodam’s spacious room while keeping safe, appropriate distance between them. They look at him funny, but it’s not the reason why Chaerin is giving him a furtive concerned glance every now and then.

In the screen, Taeyong is giving Sicheng – Winwin – a hug. Winwin asked him, _“are you mine, Hyung?”_

Taeyong answered, merry laugh and exultant smile, _“I’m yours._ ”

“Let me borrow your toilet, Noona,” Jaehyun excuses himself.

When he returns, it’s to Chaerin looking at him with concern on her round, petite face. “Are you okay?”

Jaehyun smiles, dimpled and mechanic. He can practically feel a gear creaking. “Yeah, why?”

“Yoonoh-yah is being uncharacteristically quiet lately,” she voices out her worry.

He deflects it with slow stretch of a smile, more genuine, more honest, more thankful, and word of gratitude slips out from his lips. “Thank you,” Chaerin blinks up at him, “I’m fine, just tired.”

“Really?” she presses on, leaning closer.

Jaehyun steps back but pats her fluffy hair, “really.”

Chaerin stares at him for another beat of silence while Jaehyun summons that fortress of ice that he had guarded himself with until three months ago. “Okay,” she finally lets the issue drop and doesn’t bring it up anymore. They lose themselves in their hobby, talking about the show and future schedule.

There are about 10 fansigns announced, the girls are talking about which one to go. Junghwa turns to Jaehyun who’s been quiet since the topic of fansign appeared. “You’re coming, right, Yoonoh-yah?”

Jaehyun, with smile that he puts on his face out of habit more than anything, scans the screen of Sodam’s laptop where she’s currently opening her online planner. He mentally cross-check it with his own schedule in his head before pointing on a certain date, “22nd, Yeouido, my lecturer canceled her class that day, so I’m free the whole day.”

“There’s music bank too after that,” Sodam reminds them. She ticks the date, opens a note and types ‘ _Yoonoh’s 1_ _st_ _fansign’._ Jaehyun laughs, hitting her shoulder lightly, bashful. “That’s perfect date,” she says with cheerful smile.

“We should celebrate,” Chaerin beams, looking at Jaehyun proudly like a mom at his son’s first piano recital. “Pizza, chicken?”

“Korean BBQ?” Junghwa pipes in hopefully.

“Junghwa,” Sodam quips, stern. Junghwa scurries back behind Jaehyun who laughs heartily. He ruffles her hair.

“It’s okay, it’s on me. I haven’t eaten any meat in a while either.”

“Been in diet to achieve jaw that can cut diamond, inspired by Lee Taeyong. Very smitten, I see. My Yooyong ship is sailing hard,” Chaerin muses out dreamily, adoration dripping from her voice like honey.

“We will see Yooyong happening soon,” Sodam follows after her, looking just as fond. “I hope there’ll be Solyu, too.”

“I just want to see Taeyongie,” Junghwa sighs, leaning on Jaehyun’s side.

He laughs at his friends antics. Happy, simply happy, to be surrounded by people who support him and the person he loves. To be able to reveal a little part of himself that he never showed to anyone before, and be accepted still despite that.

Jaehyun wonders if they’d accept him if they knew the truth – about his lies that belly more truth than they let themselves believe. If they know Jaehyun had once hurt their idol, would they welcome him still?

 _Taeyong welcomes you,_ a voice says in his head. He pictures his chat with Taeyong, the chat that’s been sleeping unstirred for sixty two days and more. _As long as he welcomes you, nothing should matter, right?_

He thinks if it’s true, looks at his surrounding and realizes he doesn’t want to lose this, this friendship forged by and for Lee Taeyong. He thinks too, if Taeyong will really _welcome_ him. And that is for July 22nd to answer.

Jaehyun prays the day will arrive sooner. Jaehyun also prays the day doesn’t come, like the spring that once never paid a visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aka. The “series of giant misunderstandings by the ever so unreliable narrator Jeong Jaehyun slash Jeong Yoonoh who was once a trainee and fell head over heels for Lee Taeyong, and exactly for the sake of that feeling, he became Taeyong’s fansite master because he is too much of a coward to face Taeyong head on and apologize for breaking a promise that doesn’t matter at all (?) but because he is the unreliable narrator and insecure Jeong Jaehyun who wants his life to be perfect, it matters the whole world to him”.
> 
> aka. the fansite AU I kept going on and on on twitter.
> 
> aka. this gonna be a long-ass ride.
> 
> Apologies for any mistakes, timeline or place, fansite culture inaccuracy. Canon-linear/divergence.


	2. If We are Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taeyong of NCT and Jaehyun, his fansite master, eventually meet,

_Take my hand and draw a circle_   
_This is how much we’ve shared together_   
_My whole heart is by your side_ _  
_ Your dreams are by my side

Without You - NCT U

:::

 

22nd of July comes, beams of sunshine fall through the gap between his curtains, racing on his floor to find out who’s the longest. Jaehyun wakes up with a slight kink on his neck, wrong sleeping position. He tries to roll them off, stretching on his bed for a while before getting off and preparing for a long day ahead.

Which doesn’t seem to take off with a good start because he accidentally smashes his mug to the floor.

Jaehyun stares at the broken porcelains, cursing. He continues knocking things off here and there, suddenly gaining back his clumsiness from 2nd grade when he was hit by growth spurt like speeding train. He breaks another mug when he’s fixing his coffee.

Jaehyun just wants to cry at the prospect of non-caffeinated day (even though his coffee still tastes like shit).

The saving grace in his plight is the perfectly cooked scrambled eggs and baby potatoes. Jaehyun devours them gratefully while scrolling through his twitter timeline. He got around 1232 notifications just from one night alone. There are DMs from Chaerin and Sodam, reminding him that this is the D-day.

Jaehyun swallows a mouthful of well-seasoned potato. It’s the D-day indeed. Today will mark the end of their separation, today, Jaehyun will gather all his remaining courage to face Taeyong once again.

Today, he will finally _really_ look at Taeyong up-close, without the distance connected by lenses separating them.

Today, Vega will meet his Altair, and Jaehyun really wishes they’re two distant stars instead of everlastingly detached earth and its silver satellite even if they’re separated the same. At least Vega and Altair had their reunion in the sweet spun of fairytale.

Jaehyun gets dressed; navy blue hoodies with red-white stripes on the forearm, white t-shirt underneath. He puts on a red cap just in case, not that he thinks it can hide his face, even though he’s grown out of his baby fats, he’s sure Taeyong can recognize his face anywhere (unless the fact that nobody in NCT ever noticed him while he’s doing his fansite business is indication that his hyung has indeed forgotten him).

He brings his cameras too, Sodam will take care of them since she’s not getting her album signed today. Jaehyun sprays himself with cologne for extra confidence, smelling like windswept shore and woody sage.

He checks on his gifts as well, the glossy black paper bag contains things that he knows Taeyong will find helpful; vitamins, band aid, knee-protector for dancing, and some pain relieving patch for he knows Taeyong often gets kink on his waist and knee. Simple and practical, nothing extravagant. He considers getting the most expensive chocolate he could afford except he knows Taeyong will probably have the younger members eat them.

Giving himself last once over in the mirror, Jaehyun nods to his reflection, eyes flickering with hesitant determination.

“You can do it, Jeong Jaehyun, you can do it.”

When he arrives at the venue, he’s sweating bullets already, and his confidence has wilted so much that Jaehyun has to scramble around for a desperate cling, begging them not to desert him in the pool of his anxiety.

Sodam, the ever so wise and kind Sodam spots him first, and she approaches him with hurried, small steps. “You’re here!” she says, breathless. Disbelief that quickly turns into worry. “Are you okay, Yoonoh-yah?”

His throat a barren wasteland, Jaehyun croaks out. “No. I’m not, Noona, I’m sweating so much,” he sputters, not quite looking at her, not quite looking at anything. He’s dizzy, gaze cloudy, over-creative mind starting to paint horrendous images in quick, messy stroke of black and grey. Jaehyun’s legs wobble, Sodam steadies him by the elbow with her slender hand.

“Yoonoh-yah?”

“I’m-“ Jaehyun leans forward, hanging his head down and screwing his eyes shut. He tries to draw as much comfort as possible from her delicately reassuring fingers, he recalls how Taeyong has caught him from falling when he danced a little too hard a couple of days before his leg decided to give up on him.

Taeyong.

“I’m fine, sorry,” he says albeit weakly. Sodam doesn’t seem to believe him but Jaehyun’s clasp on her wrist is strong, convincing. “Really, Noona. Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Sodam nods. She doesn’t let go of his elbow, steering him to nearby empty seats and making him sit on the plastic chair. She helps him organize his belongings until Jaehyun is left with nothing but his paper bag of present, bag of camera sitting sandwiched between her legs under the chair. “This is all?”

Jaehyun nods, tongue still a sand paper. “Yeah, just this. Thank you, Noona.”

The worry that clouds her eyes is as murky as the one the sky in Jaehyun’s heart, calm before the storm. But he gives her one of his easy smiles, the one he has practiced in years, and is perfect enough to fool even his parents.

“I’m sorry, I’m overreacting, aren’t I? It’s silly, it’s just a fansign,” he chuckles self-deprecatingly. Sodam shushes him with gentle slap on his knee.

“It’s not silly,” she chides him. “You’re nervous. Everybody gets nervous. It’s normal, nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“Yeah, except this,” Jaehyun gestures around him with weak hands. “Just a fansite. And I’m a twenty years old man getting his tongue knotted and legs twisted just because I’m about to meet my idol,” - _my five years crush, the love of my life, the star on my sky, the oxygen to my blood_ \- “even Junghwa is not this antsy on her first fansign.”

“Junghwa is Junghwa,” Sodam says, giving his knee a tiny squeeze. “You are you. You genuinely adore him, you’re different, I can _tell_.”

Even if so slightly, Jaehyun can hear the emphasis she puts on the last word. He wonders if Sodam can _really_ tell at all, wonders if Sodam secretly believes he and Taeyong are really acquaintances with each other, wonders how much of truth in Jaehyun’s lies that she caught on. “I’m scared,” he lets some ugly part of himself out.

The confession falls, straight to Sodam’s open palm, and she cradled it gently with her tender, accepting fingers. “I know, and it’s okay.”

Jaehyun wants to believe in her, he really does, except it’s so hard when his legs keep on shaking, and his breath stilling every now and then.

The brushes are moving tirelessly in the canvas of his brain, drawing more and more horrendous picture to the point Jaehyun cannot look anywhere else, surrounded by his nightmare.

He tries to quell his anxiety by listening to Junghwa and Chaerin’s animated chats, the three of them trying not to aggravate him further and attempting to cheer Jaehyun up, something he’s eternally grateful for, but at the same time inflates his fear.

What if they leave him once they know the truth behind him and Taeyong? Will they leave him? Will they stop being his friends?

He spends the remaining time until the event officially begins tormented by his own mind. The only time he feels relatively at ease is when Sodam offers him honey butter chips for moral support. Jaehyun accepts it weakly, smiling at her like she’s Mother Teresa. But his solace doesn’t last long, transient cicada’s dream, as the staff announced NCT 127’s arrival.

Girls start screaming, Jaehyun does too, mentally, except his comes out like dying whale noise, and he is dying, too, maybe, he’s not surprised if he does because breathing suddenly becomes harder to do.

Taeyong steps out, and he is beautiful, so _damn_ beautiful that Jaehyun doubts his capability of existing all-together, let alone breathing. He feels undeserving of this ethereal beaute.

Because Taeyong is beautiful, has always been ever since he graced the lucky earth with his tiny, adorable cry. He is much more beautiful than three decades of Miss Universe combined. He shines brighter than the stars. Jaehyun is sure that stars cower in shame anyways when Taeyong appears.

Jaehyun wants to shout it from the rooftop, from the peak of highest Mount Everest. Wants to scream it out of his lungs until every single life on earth  knows of Lee Taeyong’s surreal beauty. It’s a simple fact, like earth is round and it revolves around the sun; true, undeniable.

Jaehyun wants to declare too, of feelings that keep him alive and motivated all these three years, feelings that help him live through undying, abiding winter.

Of feelings that have taken root in his heart after hours and hours spent sharing training room together; watching the way sweat glistens on Taeyong’s skin after every tiring, gruesome practice.

Of feelings that he never once forget despite the permanent distance that keeps them apart, distance that he’d soon cross once the staff ushered him to the stage.

Taeyong is beautiful, with his dream-like wisp of purplish-hued-white of a hair, big, makeup framed eyes that make them appear even bigger and fuller, perfectly shaped nose, and pink, small lips, drawn beautifully on milky, unblemished skin.

There’s red choker circled around his neck, it makes Jaehyun’s mind travels to forbidden territory, but he admonishes the illicit thought away quickly when the staff announced they’re starting the event.

Jaehyun’s eyes go wide, he looks around for help, but Chaerin and Junghwa is in another line, Sodam can be seen pointing her lens at Taeyong, busy doing her job. Jaehyun waves helplessly at her, heart beating too fast for his comfort. This isn’t good, not good at all. World starts to teeters slowly, and his gaze swims, his hands go clammy from sweat, legs wobble; _fuck_.

His blood is rushing to his head, leaving the rest of his body. Despite the numbness that permeates slowly, Jaehyun can feel the dull ache of his left leg, right where his muscles supposed to tear.

Phantom pain. It calls him, dragging him backward through the passage of time until he is once again curled on the cold, unfeeling floor of the practice room, clutching his burning leg with trembling hands.

Then there was Taeyong, crying, _crying_ , beautiful, the singular truth in Jaehyun’s universe. The only thing that matters in Jaehyun’s world.

And to Taeyong Jaehyun owes him, so many things, so many words, but all of them should begin with apology, and if Jaehyun cannot make it now, if Jaehyun lets his anxiety takes over now, he can never get his feelings across. Taeyong might have read his messages but his lack of answer should be saying something, that even if he acknowledges Jaehyun, it doesn’t mean he welcomes Jaehyun back to his life.

The line starts to move, Jaehyun feels his heart fall through his stomach with dramatic swoop. He turns around to seek help from Sodam once again, encouraging smile, a wave and quick view of her supporting smile; anything that tells Jaehyun it’s gonna be alright even though he knows it’s not.

It’s not, it’s not going to be alright. It’s going to be a mess, like the mug that Jaehyun had crashed this morning. Like what his leg had become; like what _Jaehyun_ has become. Like his relationship with Taeyong.

Jaehyun clenches his teeth, his fist, and brings his knuckle to the bridge of his nose. _Fuck this_ , he curses, feeling the bile that rises hotly in his throat, scorching red lava. He swallows them down with so much difficulty, pressing his knuckles harder to halt impending headache.

Breathing is a chore. A mission impossible. There’s a hand down his throat, blocking his larynx, jagged, spiked claws reaching for his lungs. He feels suffocated, imaginary blood trickling from the ruptured tissue of his windpipe.

He is going to faint, Jaehyun thinks as he draws a ragged breath. Yet the crowd moves, unconcerned current of time.

The girl behinds him chuckles none too discreetly, urging him to move forward. Jaehyun does, unbalanced step of legs that are suddenly too long and do not feel like his own. The ground quivers beneath him, or maybe it’s his own body that channels the quake of mother earth.

Another inhale, a choked out exhale. Now Jaehyun just wants to cry, badly. This is pathetic. He is twenty years old already, yet he is in the verge of breakdown in the prospect of meeting his idol.

Granted, maybe Taeyong is just not an idol for him; his old friend, the man he’d trade the whole world for and some more. Between them, there is history, frozen in time like the winter that once reigned over Jaehyun’s heart. Still, it doesn’t change the fact that he is being totally laughable right now, shaking to the boots and breaking cold sweats like waterfall.

Wiping his damp forehead, Jaehyun steals a glance towards the stage where the NCT 127 members are sitting. Mark is the first in line; reddish auburn hair pushed up by three-colored hairbands. Next is Yuta, thankfully his hair has retained all its straight, burgundy glory, blinding grin ever present on his handsome face.

Hansol is beside him, big eyes flicking back and forth in unconcealed, endearing skittishness. Taeil next to him does a better job at hiding his jitters, giving the fans waves here and there though Jaehyun, with a year of knowing him, can tell how nervous his Hyung actually is. Donghyuck – Haechan - looks in his element, looking more at ease compared to the elder members on his left with how easily he throws some heart signs to the fans with his signature, energetic grin.

Winwin smiles quietly, adorable with the apparent hint of timidity in his small gestures. He looks like a fairy prince, a little fairy prince that visits you at night to drop you candies and charms you a sweet dream. He’s a sweet kid indeed, Jaehyun knows that much after watching two season of NCT Life.

Winwin – Dong Sicheng – is a sweet kid with equally sweet heart, made of caramel and spun sugar. Everyone looks at him adoringly like Winwin is the sweetest kid that ever walks the planet, leaving trail of cream and confetti behind him.

And Taeyong, Taeyong dotes on him like Winwin would die without him, always making sure that he gets to speak and is included in conversations, keeping reassuring and encouraging eyes on Winwin whenever he speaks, smile blooms on his face , pink camellia in full bloom-tender.

It squeezes Jaehyun’s heart whenever he sees their exchange. Small yet genuine. It’s obvious how much they cherish each other, how much Winwin depends on Taeyong and vice-versa. And as much as their interactions torture Jaehyun with green-eyed jealousy, at the same time, he feels thankful for Winwin’s presence.

Jaehyun understands why Taeyong moons over the younger boy; Taeyong longs to feel needed, to have someone validating his worth by counting on him. It’s the result of his wound, of a part of his past that he’s yet to disclose to anyone, and Jaehyun, even until now, still fervently wishes Taeyong will open up to him one day.

It used to be his role, someone who sticks by Taeyong’s side and hangs on his every word, revering him, adoring him like he’s the one who paints Andromeda on the sky. But now that he’s no longer there, the space was left empty until Winwin came to fill the spot.

Again, his heart constricts painfully in his chest. Again, Jaehyun goes astray in sea of _what if_ s and mounting regrets. Again, Jaehyun lets his eyes find Taeyong, locking them securely on his dream-like figure.

He looks unreal as always with his beauty, and his black attire looks like an anchor to reality, ensuring every seeing eyes that this man with delicate smile that contrasts starkly with the sharpness of his jaw is indeed true and certain. That Taeyong won’t disappear after they blink their eyes.

Jaehyun knows this better than anyone. He has touched that boy; their skins had met, under the cobalt blanket of sky and silver twinkles; their fingers had entwined, like stars and constellation aligned. He has been in the receiving end of that divine smile, far before anyone else, long before the fans, even before Taeyong smiled to his own band members.

It had been him, Jeong Jaehyun, who dived into that dark lake that nobody dared to because there was rumor of monster lurking under.

It had been him who dived in, swimming against the cold, murky current to retrieve a rough, gleaming gem called Lee Taeyong from the bottom of the lake.

It was him too who polished the gem to its full glory, varnished it with care day by day until the gem revealed its true shine and brilliance.

The very same Lee Taeyong is here now, fingering the crimson choker wrapped snugly around his neck, looking uncomfortable but smiling still. Jaehyun longs to run his fingertips around the smooth leather, unbuckling it to free Taeyong from constraint so he can breathe easier.

He wonders if he is allowed to, he wonders if he is still given the luxury of touching him like he used to. He wonders, of everything and nothing at the same time, because the line continues moving and when one of security guard enters his line of vision, Jaehyun realizes his turn is coming soon.

Panic returns to him, speeding train crashing relentlessly. The ache on his left leg intensifies, Jaehyun sways, leaning his weight on his right leg instead to keep himself standing. The air is thick as it enters his lungs, doesn’t help easing his anxiety at all. Once again with heart full of hope, Jaehyun sweeps his gaze to the general area where he remembers Sodam to be sitting, desperate for one last encouragement.

But before he can find Sodam, the security guy is already telling him to move. Jaehyun flinches, turning to the suit-clad guy so hard he get a whiplash. He trips when he climbs the stairs, the man tries hard not to sneer at him but failing, Jaehyun’s face flares crimson, ashamed.

Three more girls and he will be face to face with Mark; Mark who used to energetically call him ‘Jay-hyung’, Mark who used to look up to him like Jaehyun is his own older brother.

Jaehyun swallows down a sob that threatened to spill itself from his mouth, he doesn’t want to think of memories right now, doesn’t want to remember the days he spent together with these people he’s about to get autograph from.

He digs around for his album, making sure the post-it notes are stuck in the right place. Jaehyun knows he wouldn’t be able to speak properly in front of them without breaking down crying, so he has everything written down on papers.

Congratulations, words of encouragements, bits and pieces of what he remembers about them when they were brother in arms, fighting together for the sake of achieving one dream.

_Stay lovely as you are_ , _vitamin Donghyuck_ for Haechan,

Y _ou will be even better, My Other half!_ For Mark,

_Oppa, fighting <3 _ for Yuta,

_Our dancing king, Hansol-hyung <3_ _Plase take care of everyone, gabu!_ for Hansol,

_Illie-hyung, I hope you open up faster to everyone, we love you_ for Taeil,

_Please take care of yourself and everyone, Winwinnie :)_ for Winwin.

Then for Taeyong, for Taeyong whom he loves with the sureness of rising sun and fatality of its dawn, for Taeyong whom he loves with every single fiber and cell that constituted his being, for Taeyong whom he loves with the depth of uncharted abyss and unexplored ocean floor; for Taeyong whom he had hurt but still accepts him, there can be no other message than this, simple three words that he has always told the other boy;

_I’m with you._

The messages are scribbled with black pen, different colors of papers for each member. On the bottom is _please write ‘to our brother, Jaehyun’_ , followed by simple _I’m sorry_.

Winwin wouldn’t understand, but the others would. Taeyong would, and Jaehyun frightfully tries not to think about their reaction, sure that he’d chicken out if he did.

He cannot. He must not. He has gathered his courage for this. He has waited for winter that last for more than thirty cycles of moon for this single moment.

It’s time for him to stop running away; it’s time for him to face his fear, the indifferent and fair reality. It’s time for him to face his mistake that he has refused to admit.

It’s time for him to heal the wound he has left untreated and has grown into ugly, sickening yellow and crimson scab, dripping puss every now and then with occasional blood trickling in.

On top of everything, he has to face Taeyong, has to beg for his mercy – not his heart, _never_ his heart, for Jaehyun thinks he doesn’t deserve that diamond-precious heart anymore for all the wrong he has done to him – and tells him, reassures him, that despite everything, Jaehyun will always be there for him, supporting him; _never leaving him_. Not even once, and he will never let Taeyong be alone anymore if Taeyong let Jaehyun back into his life.

If Taeyong doesn’t, then Jaehyun is okay with that too, who is he to deny what Lee Taeyong asks of him. For Taeyong, Jaehyun can only give, he can never really ask for anything because Taeyong has given him so much and some more, things that Jaehyun knew he needed and didn’t know he’d need.

The girl before him is already greeting Mark, Jaehyun pulls his cap low, measly attempt to hide and gather himself before he outs himself to his once comrades. He worries his bottom lips, gripping his album too tight he probably drives a hole through the thick, glossy, bundled papers.

Looking down, he catches the movement of legs in front of him, murmured, jovial “ _thank you!”_ and _“come again!_ ” that comes from a voice he remembers to be higher.

Jaehyun swallows, walks forward, pushing the towering gate of his fear open, and steps out under the light. Light that is caught on Mark’s huge, blown eyes when Jaehyun raises his head to reveal a face he hopes Mark still remembers.

Time doesn’t still. They ebb and flow, quiet of midday river. Mark gapes at him like he’s seeing a ghost, eyes blown as wide as his hanging open mouth. Like that, Mark looks vulnerable - _too_ vulnerable - and it surges wave of protectiveness in him, as well as chivalrous tide of bravery that fortify his heart of sand into one of strong, centuries hardened coral reef.

Before any sound can escape Mark’s trembling lips, Jaehyun quickly puts his finger in front of his own. Universal code of silence. He shoves his opened album on the table in front of Mark, winking with a smile that he thought he wouldn’t be able to muster today from how frightened he is.

“Hello, Mark,” Jaehyun greets him softly, watching as Mark clamps his jaw tightly shut, adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows what Jaehyun can assume as his name. “You’ve grown so well. I’m proud of you. Can you sign here, for your Hyung?”

Their gazes meet for an interval that doesn’t last enough to be a second, words travel between them.

_Sorry._

_I miss you._

_You’ve done so well._

_Are you okay?_

_I’m fine._

_Are you happy, Hyung?_

_I’m fine._

The manager starts nudging Mark’s back, whispering him to continue, because the queue is still long behind Jaehyun, and they do not have - _never have_ \- the luxury called time. Mark blinks; once, twice, then with smile as tight as the lock of his mouth, he nods wordlessly before signing Jaehyun’s album, smooth glide of black marker on glossy paper.

“Thank you,” Jaehyun says, fingers itching to graze his once _younger brother_ ’s skin; itching to run his hand through Mark’s colorful hair, and praise him for all great endeavours he has made and will achieve in the future.

But he is not allowed to, so he settles with a smile. Heartfelt and genuine, conveying his gratitude and apology in peachy colored beam.

He moves on to the other members and all of them share similar reaction with Mark; mouth gaping open like door with broken hinges, but Jaehyun presses his finger on his lips again, smiling with a smile that he hopes still decorates the wall of their memories.

They return his smile with their own, their eyes are gleaming citrine-colored gemstones, catching the scattered lights and reflect them to Jaehyun like silent codes.

_Hello. Long time no see!_

_How are you?_

_I’m fine. I’m proud of you, all of you._

_We miss you._

_I know. I miss you too._

_Jaehyunnie-_

_Take care of yourself, Hyung. Don’t force yourself too much, eat, rest. I will always be here supporting you_.

_Jae-_

_I’m sorry. I love you, guys. Thank you._

Jaehyun parts with tight, reassuring smile. He doesn’t miss the way the corner of their lips quiver as they give him their own nods, notices the way Hansol sniffs and wipes his eyes when Jaehyun walks away, sees the way Yuta clamps his jaw unnecessarily hard even though his smile is the brightest.

Winwin doesn’t share the sentiment, of course. Wiwnin never share the same training room with him, never breathe in the same air as him; unpleasant with sweat but oddly comforting with sense of solidarity.

Wiwnin smiles up at him, says ‘Hello’ with accented Korean, and Jaehyun replies him with his own greeting. He doesn’t speak at all in fear of catching Taeyong’s attention, who, by some sort of weird, grand force of nature, manages to remain oblivious to Jaehyun’s presence, too absorbed by his fans.

Jaehyun feels fondness shroud him like warm bath; leaving no gap between skin as they offer you comfort after long, tired day. Taeyong is quiet boy, but he has always been attentive to people around him.

He cares, _too much_ even that it can be overbearing, but for Jaehyun it has always been a welcome concern. Taeyong shines bright on stage, but he is the most brilliant when he’s pouring all of him for other people.

The conversation between Taeyong and his fans trickle to Jaehyun’s ears, sweet drizzle of warm maple syrup. The fan is fussing over Taeyong; _are you eating well? Taeyong-ah, you look so thin. Please rest. Is you hip still hurting? You are doing really good on stage, but don’t forget to take care of yourself._ And Taeyong answers each of her concern with reassuring smile, never missing a single question.

Even though he’s been urged to bid his farewell, Taeyong holds on. Ignoring his manager’s irritated chuckle, he keeps on nodding to his fan’s words, smiling in a way that makes Jaehyun’s heart ache with longing, because in that single moment, the fan is the only thing that matters in Taeyong’s world. For that transient moment, the fan is Taeyong’s sole reason for existence.

And soon, Jaehyun will be under that spotlight, be in the receiving end of that unconditional, unending kindness. He is not sure if he’s ready. He is sure he is not ready, actually. He has made it this far, managed to reunite with his old friends without breaking down, but it was them, and this is _Taeyong_. Taeyong who has Jaehyun’s heart imprisoned in room of winter that last for eternity; eternity of loving Lee Taeyong even though he knows his love will never find a home.

At last, the fan says her goodbye, apologizing for taking her time too long. Taeyong says, “it’s okay. Thank you for coming, take care of yourself too. Have a nice holiday in Taiwan!”

He keeps his gaze trained on the leaving girl, totally oblivious to Jaehyun who’s putting his gift bag on the table and his album for Taeyong to sign on.

It’s only when the girl has safely left the signing that Taeyong eventually, _finally_ , turns his head to the left, angling it upward to greet his next ‘fan’, eyes luminous with welcoming enthusiasm, felicity tugging the corner of his lips upward into beautiful, _beautiful_ smile that knocks the air out of Jaehyun’s lungs, and in so many ways, is _killing_ him.

Jaehyun wants to say, _long time no see_.

His lips utter, “hello.”

‘Time stills’ cannot even describe the sensation of having everything around them halt to a stop.

Screeching halt of suddenly slammed brake is too violent to describe the way world seems to fall into lulling, quiescent beat as it stops paying mind to anything that is not Lee Taeyong, focusing all senses into the beautiful boy with eyes too big and too dark, jawlines too sharp and too angular, hair too white and too long; face too utopian and too whimsical.

World drinks Lee Taeyong in. World worships Lee Taeyong and his phantasmagorical beauty that has made Jaehyun surrender his heart three years and some more ago. World takes notes of the shooting of his brows, world studies the blown of his pupil, world captures the light that is caught on Taeyong’s irises and color them in dazzling obsidian.

World stops for that single instant, but doesn’t stop Taeyong’s pretty, _pretty_ red lips from falling open, doesn’t stop tears that fall from Taeyong’s eyes the moment he registers, recognizes, and realizes who is standing in front of him.

World doesn’t stop Taeyong’s hands from flying to cover his mouth as it tumbles out a broken gasp that speaks of too much longing, and misery, and heart that is still broken even after long period of changing seasons.

World freezes on the spot, or maybe it’s not the world; maybe it is Jaehyun, because he got his throat closing in, body all locked up by cold chains of fear.

Or maybe chains aren’t the ones that grappled around his limbs and restrained his movement; maybe it’s the hands of bodyguards who have shot from their spots to catch Jaehyun in their unforgiving, secure hold.

Jaehyun is too wrapped up in the tangle of his own emotion to care about those bruising grips and shouts.

Too overwhelmed by having Taeyong this close to him to notice the pain that shoots out from his left leg as they start to drag him away.

Too mesmerized by those droplets of crystalline tears that Taeyong spills as their gazes are locked on each other.

It’s been long.

_Too_ long.

It might have been just yesterday Jaehyun sees Taeyong, in flesh, and captured him with his lens. But it’s been more than three years since Taeyong has Jaehyun reflected in his own lenses, and it’s been that long too since Jaehyun feels like he is truly alive.

He’s been nothing but empty shell. A walking void carcass made of human’s flesh and bones. His heart has never been there, having been gouged out from his bosom while it was still beating; red and alive.

The heart of _Jeong Jaehyun_ , and all these years he has been living as _Jeong Yoonoh_ ; sporting a gaping hole in his chest where his heart is supposed to be. Yoonoh is mechanical smile and programmed words.

He thought _Jaehyun_ has been awaken from his slumber three years ago when Taeyong was first announced to public. He thought Jaehyun has been revived when they released “Without You” on April 9th. He thought Jaehyun has returned when spring reintroduced herself to his life.

Apparently that wasn’t the case.

The heart has always been asleep, deep in the bottom of frozen lake that doesn’t melt even if vernal season waltzes in. Jaehyun’s heart sleeps, waiting not for the arrival of spring to end his everlasting winter but for Lee Taeyong to retrieve him like the way Jaehyun had done to him five years ago.

And today, finally, Taeyong does that.

“Taeyong-hyung...”

The world resumes its pace, everything is more vivid now; the air feels clearer now. Jeahyun can hear the commotion growing louder. Jaehyun can feel the pressure on his limbs intensify. Jaehyun wants to fight, Jaehyun wants to scream. Loud is not the noise of his surrounding but the rush of his blood as he feels Taeyong’s eyes on him.

He is looking at him, stringing pearls and diamonds as he cries, cries, and cries.

Jaehyun remembers hospital room.

Jaehyun remembers Taeyong standing by the side of his bed, twining broken gemstones as he begged Jaehyun not to leave him.

The film of his memory rolls, playing another scene of crying Taeyong in the dank training room. He was younger, his cheeks fuller, but he was weeping still, and Jaehyun recalls how he had failed to catch those beautiful lustrous-clear corundum three years ago.

His senses did not register the shouts and yells around him. Screams of panic and warning, “get him outta here!” that’s ripped from someone’s throat.

Distantly, someone is calling for him. Maybe Sodam. Maybe Chaerin or Junghwa. Maybe the other members who have stood but immobile as the staff restrained them to their spot.

Jaehyun’s senses are hyper-aware of nothing but one Lee Taeyong. They recognize him, sending impulse after impulse to Jaehyun’s brain to process the situation and tell his body to respond.

This time, he’s not failing. This time, he will not repeat the same mistake he had done three years ago. This time when Taeyong calls for him, Jaehyun swears to God and all superior beings in the whole universe, he will answer him.

He’s already being dragged down the platform by limbs attached to faceless bodies when Taeyong stands up. His manager is ready behind him, pulling Taeyong back by the elbow, and it’s the only time Jaehyun feels the urge to rebel against his restraints.

He digs his feet to the ground, lunges his body forward but the men around him are stronger, bigger. They hold hand over his neck, adding pressure to his windpipe and Jaehyun chokes. Taeyong’s eyes go wide at the scene and he, too, tries to break free from his manager’s grasp.

“Jaehyun!!”

Someone squeezes his upper arm hard, Jaehyun winces at the pain, but Taeyong is calling him, _Oh God, Taeyong is crying and is calling him_ , and he is not failing again. This time, he swears he’s going to answer because the last time he did not and look at how much it had hurt the two of them.

Jaehyun opens his mouth, stops resisting and let the men drag him away. His eyes are still connected with Taeyong’s with emotions that they had wanted to say but remained unspoken for the past three years. Taeyong looks scared. Taeyong looks afraid as he, once again, can do nothing but stand helplessly as the world forces him to watch Jaehyun being ripped apart from him.

But this time, it will be different.

This time, even if the same story rewrites itself, Jaehyun is determined to make the ending different.

This time, Taeyong will get his answer just like how Jaehyun has earned back his vivacious spring when Taeyong stepped back into his life.

He sees the manager roughly trying to pull Taeyong off the stage. Winwin looks troubled, torn in between helping his Hyung or following his manager’s order. Yuta shouts something, frowning in anger at how his leader has been handled. He looks like he is ready to jump to his defense any second if not for Hansol’s placating hands on his shoulders. Haechan, Taeil, and Mark are looking at Jaehyun, sporting similar expression of worry and concern.

Jaehyun feels himself smiling through the pain that has blossomed from where he’s being restrained. Despite that, he still finds a strength in him to open his mouth, and with voice louder and firmer than he thought he’s capable of in his current turmoil, he shouts, “I’m fine, Taeyong-hyung!”

Just as loud is the angry roar of his heart when he watches Taeyong being pulled away from the stage as well, eyes desperately seeking Jaehyun’s retreating figure.

But even louder is the sound of ice breaking all around him.

At last, the ice has finally melted.

:::

There are four bodyguards in the room. Two on either side of the door, one behind Jaehyun, and one behind the manager who’s assessing Jaehyun with careful blank expression. The four men do not intimidate Jaehyun at all even though they’re probably hiding all means of artillery under their pressed, sleek, black suits.

They do not make Jaehyun shake in his shoes with how they’re trying to drill a hole to Jaehyun’s back.

The manager, though; the manager is a whole other story.

If this is a courtroom, the manager is the judge, and Jaehyun is defendant in trial. The bodyguards are the police and another manager who just entered the room will be the prosecutor; he was the one who had handled Taeyong earlier. Jaehyun shoots a glare at his direction, hoping it could materialize itself into sharp dagger.

The scene would make a perfect courtroom if Jaehyun had an attorney to defend his honor and win his case.

He doesn’t have one. It doesn’t change the fact that the manager who sits before him is the one who’s in charge of this room, is the one who can decide Jaehyun’s future with the swing of his gravel.

“Your name?”

Jaehyun rolls his shoulder back, trying not to show that he’s unnerved by the assessing stare he’s receiving.

_This is a war, show your enemy your weakness, and you’re done_.

He got to play his cards right, he has to appeal to them that he’s harmless to the boys or else he’d have himself blacklisted from attending any of NCT’s schedules.

_Fuck_. He can’t have that.

“Jeong Yoonoh,” he answers. Meeting the manager’s eyes head on to show his composure, he continues, “your company probably had me under ‘Jeong Jaehyun’, though.”

The manager’s brows rose, interested. “Our company?”

“Yeah, I was there briefly. Two years?” Jaehyun brings his right hand out, he folds his pinky and ring fingers. “I resigned somewhere in 2013 due to injury. Parents didn’t approve me continuing even though my surgery was successful. I’m the only child, so I understand where they came from.”

Jaehyun doesn’t tell this story to buy the man’s pity, not at all. If he took it as one, then so be it. It’s not Jaehyun’s final card anyways. “So, you know any of the boys?”

“Taeyong-hyung, yes, we were pretty close in fact.” Jaehyun’s gaze briefly escapes the man’s attention, not wanting him to see the hurt that he knows must be flashing in his eyes. “Taeyong-hyung was pretty quiet, right? I remember he was always alone in the corner during breaks, remaining longer in practice room to train. I was one of the first persons who approached him.”

Jaehyun had wanted to say – to _boast_ – that he’s the one who had torn down the wall surrounding Lee Taeyong. The one who held Taeyong’s hand and guided him out from the maze of his loneliness. The one who made smile flourish on Taeyong’s face and made other trainees realize the ethereal beauty he hides under the cold mask of his exterior.

“We spent a lot of time together, training, hanging out. He was two years older so he sometimes helped me with homework,” Jaehyun lets a nostalgic smile paints itself across his face.

Those old days he saved dearly in the album of his memory danced vividly behind his eyes. Taeyong and Jaehyun sitting together in 24 hours fast food joints, heads hunching together as they pour over their homework.

The two of them navigating through the busy street of Myeongdong, laughing over nothing and everything with one of their hands linked together while another holding piping hot _oden_ for Taeyong and egg bread for Jaehyun.

Jaehyun misses them. Misses _him_. Misses things he knew he had lost forever and can never have anymore with how much spotlight has fallen over Taeyong.

“And, I don’t know, I will probably be debuting with him if I didn’t screw over my leg,” he finishes with self-depreciating laugh and contrastingly nonchalant shrug. “You can check it if you don’t believe me. Jeong Jaehyun. February 14th-“

“We don’t have to,” the manager – Taeyong’s manager – intercepts. “We have asked the boys and they have confirmed that they knew you. We believe in your story.”

The affirmation doesn’t make breathing any easier. “Huh, I’m glad they still remember me. I, we didn’t exactly part in a _good_ way. Especially Taeyong-hyung…”

“Taeyong,” he is once again cut buy the same man. This time, Jaehyun doesn’t bother hiding his annoyance at being interrupted twice. He glares at him with narrowed eyes, brows drawn together. “What do you want from him?”

“What?” Jaehyun parrots back, perplexed.

The manager doesn’t look affected at all by Jaehyun’s stupefaction. Calmly, with even tone yet eyes sharp like knife and scalpels in surgery, he asks once again, “what do you want from Lee Taeyong? Revenge? What’s your intention? You said you didn’t part with him in _good_ term,” he quoted Jaehyun’s earlier story. “You know about his _past_ , right?” when he mentioned the word ‘past’, he sounds careful.

“And you came today,” the other manager, the one who sits in front of Jaehyun with one bodyguard on his left and Taeyong’s manager on his right, follows. “Knowing they would recognize you and look at what happened now; we have to suspend the fansign. Do you know what a nuisance you’re being? Or you exactly knew this is what would happen because this has been your plan all along?”

“What-“ Jaehyun gasp, flabbergasted and affronted.

How dare they accuse him of doing such thing? Sure, Jaehyun did _plan_ to meet his old friends again, and he’d be lying if he didn’t expect Taeyong to react in some way. However, honest to God, he didn’t expect Taeyong to react the way he did.

This morning, he kept on thinking of the worst case scenario; Taeyong ignoring him, Taeyong pretending he didn’t know him, Taeyong rejecting him, even. Anything, other plausible ways thing could have turned out and in all of them, Jaehyun will end up sporting a bruise that he cannot heal, swallowing a bitter pill of another separation.

He didn’t come for forgiveness; just apology.

He wants Taeyong to know that Jaehyun never resented him regardless of his ignorance three years ago. He wants Taeyong to know that Jaehyun is supporting him, has always been and will always do for years to come.

He wants Taeyong to know that even if the whole world is against him, Jaehyun will always be there for him; cheering him on, defending him, _loving_ him.

That is the only way Jaehyun knows to repent his sin, for breaking the promise their younger self had exchanged.

He wanted Taeyong to recognize him, sure, but he didn’t expect Taeyong to recognize him that far until he cried like the way he did. To be honest, it kind of strokes his ego to know that he could evoke such reaction from Taeyong. He knew he is still affecting the elder boy in some way. The lyrics of ‘Without You’ and the many times Taeyong had read his message, frivolous as they might be, convinced him about that.

It’s his lifeline, one of little things that make Jaehyun wake up with less emptiness in his left chest. To know that he still means something to Taeyong even if it’s as insignificant as being his inspiration, especially if you consider there was no way to prove that it was indeed Jaehyun that Taeyong wrote about in ‘Without You’.

Taeyong’s response today, his tears, and the way they had practically reenacted their last meeting, however, does not only affirmed his wishful theory but also gives him relief. After a long time, Jaehyun _finally_ feels like he’s truly liberated, free from the shackle of his past mistake and guilt.

This time, he had answered Taeyong. This time, he didn’t let Taeyong’s voice be swallowed by cold, empty, air.

This time, he had looked at Taeyong in the eyes, caught his tears and reassured him that he is here, with Taeyong. Maybe not physically but he’s with Taeyong still, heart and mind. If Taeyong calls for him, Jaehyun will answer. If Taeyong seeks for him, Jaehyun will let himself be found.

Anything that Taeyong ask, Jaehyun will give, from things that Taeyong knows he do and things he didn’t. Jaehyun will give him everything, the world even, as long as he can keep the stars inside Taeyong’s eyes alive.

_I’m with you_. To tell Taeyong those three words directly with his own voice, that’s all Jaehyun wanted when he decided to come.

He didn’t expect things to end up like this, he had no intention of creating such huge commotion. Although now if he thinks rationally, this turn of event isn’t that implausible. Jaehyun starts to feel guilt creeping up his skin, twisting his guts into uncomfortable knots.

Still, it doesn’t justify the managers’ accusation at him. They didn’t even know the full story. Their protectiveness over Taeyong for a reason that Jaehyun can relate to the T aside, it’s an insult for Jaehyun’s humongous ego to have someone suspecting him of having ill intention towards his Hyung. Taeyong of all people.

If only they know what Jaehyun had went through just for him.

“You’re silent,” Taeyong’s manager prompts. “So it’s true then? You came here for revenge? To further stain his im-“

“ _Fuck_ , no!” Jaehyun growls.

He sees the managers are taken aback by his curse, and the tensing of his shoulders must be registered by the bodyguard behind, there’s a hand clasped firmly on his back. Jaehyun ignores it.

Letting ire trickles to his voice, Jaehyun speaks again. There’s a voice in the back in his head, hissing at him to _play your card right_ , but it is lost to the roaring anger inside of him. “You don’t even know _our_ story, how dare you accuse me like that? You don’t even know what Taeyong-hyung had went through, and now just because you’re his manager, you are acting like you really care about him?”

“You-“

“You don’t know!” Jaehyun repeats, slamming his hands on the table. The bodyguard roughly drags him by the shoulder, making him hit the back of the plastic chair, hard. It stings, and Jaehyun wouldn’t be surprised to find small bruising there tomorrow. Ignoring the pain, he trudges on, “I was there before anyone else. I was with him when nobody would. If it wasn’t for my leg, I would be the one who spent the longest time with him. When Taeyong-hyung was crying because he couldn’t get his dance right, I was the one who comforted him. And now you’re saying I’m here to hurt him? To defile his image?”

Nobody speak, probably too surprised by Jaehyun’s outburst. Even Taeyong’s manager is silent, watching Jaehyun with bug-eyes and slightly opened mouth.

“You don’t know anything about me, about him, and I don’t care if you accuse me of murder or something, but you don’t _fucking_ ,” gathering his strength, Jaehyun manages to break free from the vice grip on his shoulder. He leans forward, hands gripping the edge of the table tight, eyes ablaze as he meets the stunned managers’ gaze head on. Through gritted teeth, he says, “accuse me of wanting to hurt him. Because I’d rather hurt myself than doing that.”

There are hands on him again, this time four instead of two, and Jaehyun would be focusing on the managers’ words if not for the sudden loud bang of door behind him, followed by all too familiar voice that seizes his heart with aching nostalgia.

“Jaehyunnie!”

The bodyguard pulls him back again, this time, Jaehyun grunts in pain, but the panicked gasp behind him makes him wheezes out an unconvincing, “I’m fine!”

“What are you doing here, Taeyong?” the manager asks. He sounds angry and he is indeed looking angry, brows furrowed and lips taut.

Surge of protectiveness overcame him. “You do not speak to him like _that_ ,” Jaehyun snarls.

Taeyong’s manager gawks at him, Jaehyun glowers back. The hands on his shoulders are digging their fingers deeper to Jaehyun’s flesh. He considers glowering at them as well except he knows it’s counter-productive so he settles with the poor manager instead.

“I’m just,” Taeyong stutters. He sounds so scared and Jaehyun just wants to smother him in his embrace, tell him it’s alright because Jaehyun will protect him this time so no harm, even from the evil manager, can befall him. “I’m worried. About Jaehyun. I mean-“

Jaehyun pipes up, “I’m fine, Hyung.”

“I told you stay back with the boys,” the manager eventually stands up. He circles the table then walks toward Taeyong.

Jaehyun wriggles, trying to turn around so he can get better look, at Taeyong, not at the manager because he misses seeing him again already. It’s been so long, _too_ long. It’s been three years since Taeyong has seen him, and now he had tasted that feeling of being looked at by those pair obsidian eyes, Jaehyun is craving for more.

“Why are you here?”

“You don’t fucking talk to him like that,” Jaehyun repeats. Taeyong’s manager is looking at him like Jaehyun has grown ten heads.

“I’m sorry, Hyung. But,” Taeyong trails off before continuing. “But I’m worried because I heard shouting, and I thought- Hyung, it’s fine. It’s Jaehyunnie. Please don’t hurt him.”

_Oh_ . Air leaves Jaehyun’s lungs in a _whoosh_ . Now guilt is really starting to eat him away. Taeyong is here, being reprimanded by his manager, because of Jaehyun. _Fuck. Fuck. Fuck it, Jeong Jaehyun, you can never do things right_. Isn’t it enough you’re making him cry and is probably risking his already spoiled reputation? Now you have to make him undergo this chiding.

What if the manager decided not only to punish Jaehyun but Taeyong as well? What if Jaehyun’s appearance today really has been nothing but bad news for Taeyong? What if it’s true that regardless of his intention, Jaehyun can only hurt Taeyong in the end?

_Fuck._ He knew it. He shouldn’t have come at all today.

The broken glasses were the universe’s warning to him; that’s the only way today’s event would turn into, nothing more than mess of broken porcelains on the floor. Nothing is going to be right anymore. Not as long as Jaehyun stays around Taeyong, he can bring him nothing but pain.

Jaehyun feels all the anger that has previously taken over him die, blazing anger chased away by dampening remorse. His body goes slack following the sinking of his mood; he bites his trembling bottom lips, swallowing a sob that threatens its way out.

He feels tight, suffocated, like someone had punched his gut right on the solar plexus; right where it hurts the most.

“You didn’t answer my question, Taeyong. Why are you here?” the conversation continues, oblivious to Jaehyun’s remorse.

When Taeyong speaks, Jaehyun can almost hear the frown in his voice. It’s so achingly familiar, Jaehyun considers begging to the bodyguard with the cutest face he knows he could muster (he had used it on his lecturer multiple times when he missed classes for NCT’s schedule) so they would let him see his beloved Hyung.

“Like I said, I heard shouting. And, and, _banging_ . I thought somebody is hurt, then,” Taeyong trails off, apparently not from nervousness because when he continues, there’s carefully restrained agitation edging his voice. “When I came in, you were handling Jaehyun like _that_.”

‘ _Like that_ ’. Taeyong happened to witness the scene where the bodyguards were literally slamming Jaehyun to his chair. The manager seems to realize that regardless of the circumstance behind that treatment, it wouldn’t work in his favor; the heavy sigh that escapes his mouth, laced with frustration, is the clear indication. “We were in the middle of discussion, and _that_ was-“

“I don’t remember _discussion_ includes shouting and violence,” Taeyong retorts, sounding bolder than before.

The manager bristles, “that’s because Jeong-ssi over here-“

Emboldened by Taeyong’s bravado (and he’d later muse of how Taeyong, after all these years, still can inspire him so easily), Jaehyun counters, “he was accusing me of things that I’d never ever do in million years. I was just-“

“For the love of God, Jaehyun, can you shut up for a while? I’m trying to save you here and this isn’t working if you’re not cooperating,” Taeyong snaps.

Automatically, like it’s been programmed to his genetic codes, Jaehyun answers, “yes, Hyung.”

Silence. Jaehyun blinks, then Taeyong speaks again, still carrying the air of commandment in his voice. “Good boy.”

Jaehyun’s jaw drops. He swings his gaze upward to meet Taeyong’s manager’s who’s sporting the same ludicrous look of bewilderment on his face to mirror Jaehyun’s own. Behind them, the other manager and Taeyong are continuing their conversation; a _bargain_ if you see it from Taeyong’s (and Jaehyun’s) perspective.

He can’t believe it.

This is the first time Taeyong talked to him after three years and it’s a scolding. Emotion wells up inside of him, the crowd on the base of his throat, strangling him, and he cannot quiet breath. It’s too much.

_This_ is too much. Even if it’s just Taeyong admonishing him, even if there was nothing merry in their exchange, for Jaehyun who’s been deprived of Taeyong’s attention for three years, it’s still _too much_.

He longs for this; this acknowledgement, this attention, to be recognized by Taeyong regardless of the underlying emotion. Taeyong can blame him, can censure him, can hit him, and hate him, and yell at his face, and Jaehyun thinks he will be okay with it. He just wants Taeyong to acknowledge his presence so he’s no longer that empty walking corpse anymore.

He hungers for his scintillating touch, for his enticing gaze, for his titillating voice. For Lee Taeyong to ignite color back to his winter-bleak vision, for Lee Taeyong to rekindle the frozen flame in his ice-covered body.

Jaehyun bites his bottom lips, digging his teeth to the tender flesh. Inhaling deep to compose himself, he squeezes his eyes shut, fighting to keep the tears at bay. He cannot let them see his weakness; he’s still in the middle of the war. He has to win their trust so they’d let him attend NCT’s next schedule, he has come this far, he’s not letting his emotion be his downfall once again. He has to be strong, for himself for Taeyong.

_Taeyong,_ Jaehyun laughs in his head.

It should be scary how effortlessly Taeyong has affected him. Jaehyun can count with one hand how many times he had cried in span of three years since their separation and if he traced the reason, all of them is linked to Taeyong. He cried when listening to “Without You” for the first time. He cried when he read Taeyong had been censured by public in his radio appearance.

He has never felt emotion this strong either, unless it’s related to Taeyong in some way, and Jaehyun thinks it’s another testament of how much he’s in love with the older boy. Still. He loves him with the same sureness of rising sun and fatality of its dawn.

Give him another hundred and thousand of years, even if his body has decayed and became one with the earth, his feeling will persist, enrich the soil and make the flower bloom; as vibrant and as beautiful as his love.

Jaehyun opens his eyes eventually, letting the world refocus itself around him. Taeyong’s manager is now looking at him with brows furrowing in worry, apparently noticing Jaehyun’s temporary breakdown. Jaehyun offers him a tight-lipped smile, a sign of gratitude, because despite their positions, the manager still has it in him to show even a miniscule of concern.

The conversation trickles back to him, Taeyong is speaking with low voice. “Jaehyun wasn’t the one at fault. The other members met him and they were fine. It’s me. It was- I could, I should have been fine, but I-“

“You cried,” the manager says. Simple statement of fact. Blunt. Harsh. Always, for truth always, _always_ hurt.

And Jaehyun can hear it, clear like thunder ripping the sky in two before storm comes barging in. The table has turned. Now the card is in the manager’s hand, and Jaehyun doesn’t have to turn to see Taeyong ducking his head down; either clenching his fist or chewing his lips in anxiety.

“I- Yeah, it’s my fault. I should have controlled my emotion better.”

The world is like a trigger. Taeyong is _at fault_. It awakens something inside of Jaehyun, something that stirs with loud rumble of quaking earth, something that snaps with ear-splitting crack, and paints Jaehyun’s eyes with bloody red.

Jaehyun is a single child, but it didn’t make the way his parents raise him any lenient. On the contrary, he’s raised to be perfect, to be better than anyone else. Excel, stand out in the crowd. Always better, always stronger. Always on the top of his game. First in his race.

It’s the same teaching that’s been instilled deep within his blood that encouraged him to befriend Taeyong in the first place. His competitiveness told him to _keep your friend close, and enemy closer_. His falling for the starry-eyed boy was miscalculation in his part, but it’s a mistake he didn’t regret.

Taeyong is the blessing that he didn’t know he want, nor he needed. Taeyong taught him that even defected, you can always be fixed. Taeyong showed him that a scar is not something you should hide in shame but something you wear with pride like medallion.

Taeyong inspired him in any single way possible and Jaehyun has never been more grateful, even if falling for Taeyong meant he’s losing a part of himself when world decided to keep them apart. Loving Taeyong is something Jaehyun will always be proud of.

And to hear someone depreciating Taeyong – Taeyong, his pride and joy, his glory, his sun and moon, his _raison d’etre_ even- is like an insult to his overzealous ego. To read the scorns on screen is one thing; to hear it directly spoken to his hearing, is entirely _another_ thing.

Jaehyun has underestimated himself it seems, because all strength he had exerted for his previous struggle is nothing compared to this.

With herculean effort he didn’t know he could possess, Jaehyun manages to break free from his restrain. He stands up abruptly, startling the bodyguards but before they could react, Jaehyun has turned around, dashes forward and roughly shoves the shocked manager away from his path.

The men are shouting behind him but Jaehyun doesn’t care. They fade out from his mind as Jaehyun focuses on Taeyong; Taeyong with his flickering obsidian-eyes growing large in surprise, Taeyong with his diamond-cut jaw and sharp cheekbones, Taeyong with his cherry-red lips parted open. _Taeyong_.

“Hyung,” Jaehyun says, enraptured.

He extends his hands, Taeyong steps forward, and Jaehyun wonders if this is what happened when two stars collide. Vibrant force that’s powerful enough to send everything else into void as the stars melted into one.

Jaehyun forgets everything; his fear, his sadness, his worry, the ache in his heart as he gathers Taeyong in his arms, close and even closer until he cannot tell where Taeyong starts and where Jaehyun ends. He breathes him in, inhaling that nostalgic clean scent that he always associate with Taeyong. He lets Taeyong’s name spill from his lips, utterance of prayer that he’d still make even if there is no God to grant his wish.

Taeyong holds him, just as close just as desperate. He wraps his arms around Jaehyun’s shoulder, burying his nose to the crook of Jaehyun’s neck. The dampness on his skin tells Jaehyun that Taeyong is crying, and Jaehyun knows that he, himself is crying too. He tightens his hold around Taeyong’s torso, it makes him want to cry harder, because, _God_ , Taeyong has always been small, but, this; he feels even smaller, even more fragile even though he is technically bigger and older.

“You are,” Jaehyun murmurs between his tears. He maps the protruding bones under Taeyong’s shirt with his fingers, feeling Taeyong shifts under the touch as if shying away but eventually melts when Jaehyun speaks again, close to his ears that his lips are almost touching the tender skin. “Hyung, are you eating well? You’re so skinny…”

Taeyong laughs, the rumble of his chest against Jaehyun’s own makes the younger’s revived heart soar. “We just- that’s the first thing you said to me?”

“You scolded me,” the laugh is infectious, Jaehyun feels himself grinning. “And, and technically, the first thing I said to you was _hello_.”

“Hello to you too,” Taeyong murmurs, mellowness seeping back to his voice. He nuzzles his nose on Jaehyun’s skin, sniffing, then with soft voice, he says, “I miss you…”

Jaehyun replies, breathless, “I miss you, too, Hyung. I miss you so much.” A pause, another tight squeeze, then, “I’m sorry.”

_For everything. For leaving without words. For not contacting you aside from cowardice messages because I was too scared to initiate a proper conversation with you. For letting you struggle and face all the hardships alone. For letting you cry at night without anyone to hold you and whisper words of comfort._

“Just; I’m sorry,” he repeats his apology, wanting to say more but doesn’t think any words could suffice. Plus, he knows this is not the right place nor the right time to do it. He’d save it for later when he’s given the luxury of privacy, even though he doesn’t know how long he must wait until ‘later’ comes. Jaehyun believes he could survive until then, he had survived three long arduous years of eternal winter for Taeyong after all.

“Don’t be. It’s not your fault. Like I said, I should have controlled my emotion better,” Taeyong pats his back softly. “I was too emotional. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not-“ Jaehyun fumes again, pulling himself back so he can get better look at Taeyong’s face. His right hand move on its own accord to cradle Taeyong’s face, thumb brushing over his cheekbones in what he hopes to be comforting manner.

At least it was comforting when they were sixteen and eighteen respectively; and there was only the two of them and the silent practice room to witness his exchange. Now there are six other people, watching them with bulging eyes and slack-jaws. Jaehyun doesn’t care.

Taeyong doesn’t seem to care either because he tenses up, eyes growing a fraction wider, and even though everything of Taeyong is beautiful from the slope of his nose to the scar under his right eyes, Jaehyun finds his gaze attracted downward to his plush, cherry lips.

“Jae-“

“Boys, I think that’s enough!”

“MMBPH!”

Taeyong’s manager literally separates them by bringing down his hand between their faces. He accidentally slaps Jaehyun’s face in the process. Taeyong is luckier, or maybe the manager intentionally did it in a way that wouldn’t harm his artist’s face.

Jaehyun shoots a glare at the flustered manager whose eyes are darting back and forth between the two of them. “I get it, it’s all touching reunion and all,” he says hurriedly, “but, but we got fansign to resume and I’d be really thankful if we can conclude the issue at hand immediately.”

“What issue,” Jaehyun snarls. “You two have been accusing me of-“

“This isn’t the first time you came to our schedule,” the other manager – the one that Jaehyun had shoved aside roughly because he was _fucking_ in the way- spoke. His voice is calmer and when Jaehyun steals a look at him, he has drawn that blank expression back on his face.

In his hold, Taeyong shifts, “not your first time?”

Jaehyun freezes. _Shit_.

“I do believe not. In fact, I’m sure he’s been attending our schedule quite regularly. Isn’t that right, Jeong-ssi?”

The attention is back on Jaehyun again, it’s much more intimidating now that Taeyong is also looking at him with those pair of curious big eyes on him, demanding an answer, “what do you mean, Jaehyunnie?”

Jaehyun has thought about revealing his ‘profession’ to Taeyong before. He had many scenarios written in his head but none of them is like this; Taeyong in his hold, looking up at him with eyes that compels an answer, and another five pair of eyes on him doing the same.

“It’s hard not to notice you among the crowd of girl, you stick out like a sore thumb, especially with your camera and your height,” the manager adds. Jaehyun wants to throw his tele lens at his face; _can’t this guy fucking shut up for a while???_

_“_ Camera?

“He stayed in the back most of the time, always had his cap on, we supposed he didn’t want to attract attention more than he already does. He came to almost all our schedules, fansigns, airport departure and arrivals too though we’ve never seen him following us overseas. This isn’t our first time dealing with fanboys, but we had history of rude male fansite master. On contrary, he’s nice. He didn’t try to meddle with the boys, very well behave and sometimes even helped us opening path in the airport.”

Oh, yes, Jaehyun remembers it clearly, chasing after NCT to airport just a couple of days ago.

Some fans were actually pissing him off that he decided to stop his photographic to somewhat help _maneuvering_ the crowd away, using his long limbs to his advantage (Junghwa was one of the fans who went overboard, and Jaehyun had difficulty talking to her for a while).

The crowd had always been crazy, it made his heart ache sometimes with how much his hyung had to struggle from the lack of privacy. Not to mention some fans who straight up pissed Jaehyun off by trying to touch Taeyong in person.

“We had favorable opinion of him actually, thought of him as one of those _hyung_ fans who watch over the members like elder brother. Who knew he’s actually younger and was once our trainee.”

Taeyong still looks like he is having difficulty to wrap his head around the concept, trying to pieces up information together. He is still in Jaehyun’s hold, too, and the urge to kiss those pretty lips is still whispering at the back of the younger boy’s head.

That’s not what Taeyong wants nor needs right now. He needs an answer, and no matter how cute he looks like all confused and lost like this, Jaehyun basically hates the idea of Taeyong having a hard time, so he concludes it for him.

“I run a fansite,” he says, “of you. For you, Taeyong-hyung.”

“A fansite,” Taeyong repeats him as if tasting the foreign words on his tongue. “Of me?”

Jaehyun nods, “Yes. I take pictures of you with my camera, post it on my website. You know; an idol’s fansite master? All that stuff, I’ve been doing that since NCT U’s debut.”

“Oh,” he blinks, perplexed. “That long?”

“Yeah, it’s nothing impressive, really. Another fansite master friend of mine has been doing it since your SM Rookies days,” Jaehyun smiles fondly at the thought of Sodam; wise and kind Sodam, always speaking of Taeyong fondly like an elder sister about her younger brother. “Mine is only two months old or something, it isn’t that big compared to hers.”

“Oh God, I’m sorry, I never noticed-“ Taeyong gasps in horror with guilt. Jaehyun quickly strokes his cheek in attempt of calming him down, but ended up stammering himself at realizing how he is still cradling Taeyong’s face.

“Don’t be, Hyung. It’s fine. I didn’t want to be noticed anyways. I wanted to be the one who made the first step, after all, you guys could have forgotten my face already, it’s been so long.”

“Three years,” Taeyong murmurs, sounding as breathless as Jaehyun is. He wonders if his hyung is also trying so hard to ignore the way their gazes keep flicking to each other’s lips. “It’s been so long…”

“Yeah,” Jaehyun brings his eyes to meet Taeyong’s and keep it there with herculean effort. “The fansite’s name, it’s ‘ _I’m with You’_ ”

Taeyong freezes. Jaehyun watches the change of his expression as he’s hit by epiphany. Letting a melancholic smile slips to his face, Jaehyun tenderly skims his thumb on the skin beneath Taeyong’s eyes, careful not to smear the carefully put makeup. He knows Taeyong understand, there’s a story; a _long_ story behind that three simple words that’s only known to the two of them. It’s more than just a snippet of lyrics; it holds so much more than that.

“Which is why,” Taeyong’s manager coughs.

From beside them.He’s still standing there awkwardly beside them; watching the whole exchange from such close proximity. The man’s cheeks are burning and Jaehyun can feel his own doing the same, Taeyong following soon after, pupils shaking from embarrassment.

“-this is getting complicated. If Taeyong keeps on reacting to Jeong-ssi like that, it’s bound to bring trouble to the group.” The other manager explains, “I didn’t only mean if you cried or something like that, I’m talking if you started treating him specially; giving him too many eye contacts and all, the other fansite will be jealous, and it won’t be good. For us and for Jeong-ssi as well. If that happened, then we’ll have to forbid him from coming at all.”

Jaehyun’s heart falls through his stomach with dramatic swoop. He closes his eyes. This is exactly why the bodyguards and their years of training do not intimidate him. The manager is the one who holds utmost supremacy in this scene, one word from them and Jaehyun’s fate is sealed. If he’s not allowed to attend any of NCT’s schedules, his three years will be gone to waste.

“But that’s not fair!” Taeyong complains, looking at the stern face of his manager through Jaehyun’s shoulder. “I mean, it’s not fair for Jaehyunnie. He didn’t do anything wrong. It’s me, it’s all me-“

This time, it’s Jaehyun’s turn to protest, “Tae-“

“But it’s true, Jaehyunnie! It’s all down to me! I should not cry, I should have controlled my emotion better. It’s my fault,” Taeyong snaps at him with tears pooling around his eyes. He draws a sharp breath to control his shaky voice, digging his teeth to his bottom lips.

Taeyong looks so sad. So scared and guilty. Jaehyun wants to hug him and tells him everything is gonna be alright now that they’re together again.

To see his hyung frustrated like this is tearing him apart inside. Jaehyun is overcome with sense of helplessness, even if he’s practically holding Taeyong close like this, he’s still powerless to stop him from being hurt.

What’s the use of bigger, able body if he cannot protect the heart of his loved one from the torment of his own mind? What’s the use of taller height and longer limbs if he cannot keep Taeyong’s tears from falling?

“What happened today is my fault. I will not repeat this anymore. I will not give Jaehyun special treatment either during fansign. I will,” Taeyong composes himself with another deep inhale, “-I won’t even try to find him in the crowd. I will warn the other members too about that. If I can do that, will you let Jaehyun come again?”

Silence befalls the room. Jaehyun is too focused on watching the glimmer in Taeyong’s determined eyes to see the manager’s expression, but he can imagine them being engaged in a silent conversation with Taeyong trying to appeal for his cause and the manager considering the pros and cons of Taeyong’s demand. Taeyong’s manager and the bodyguards are quiet, mute jury and witnesses. Jaehyun is still the defendant, pleading for innocence this time through the help of his newly arrived attorney.

His savior, he muses with small smile. That’s what Taeyong will always be.

“Can you keep your words?” The manager finally breaks the lasting silence with a question.

“I have always kept mine, Hyung. When was the last time I ate my own words?” The confidence in Taeyong’s voice makes Jaehyun’s heart swells. He’s been watching Taeyong since his debut and he knew how hard his Hyung is struggling.

Taeyong isn’t that talkative of a person to begin with. Sure, he had his extrovert moments, but the Taeyong that Jaehyun remembers is someone who needed Jaehyun’s guiding hand to step out from his shell of solitude, and still treasure it even if he had tasted the feeling of being under the limelight. The scandal only served to worsen his already depleting self-confidence. The constant hate and refusal Taeyong has to face, sometimes make Jaehyun wonder if Taeyong can keep his head up today.

He’s always guarded, always careful, always smiling but wasn’t as sincere. He’d cling on the other member; Ten and Mark during U promotion day, now  Yuta, and Winwin who follows after him like baby chick. Yet, Taeyong will always draw this invisible line between them, either by avoiding contact or opting to watch his members from the sidelines with fond smile on his face, not joining their fiasco.

So to see him like this; eyes shining with fearless confidence despite their redness, and head held up high, is making Jaehyun proud and happy. Nothing beats Taeyong when he’s on top of his game; the brightest star amongst millions in brilliant constellation.

“I will keep your words, Taeyong,” the manager finally approves, “if I ever saw you breaking it, then Jeong-ssi over here will be banned from all of our activity, and you,” Jaehyun feels Taeyong stiffens, “will receive your _punishment_.”

How Jaehyun wanted to smash the man’s head until his skull cracks under his skin. He momentarily sees nothing but red, a tornado of anger brews inside of him. His fingers are already itching, and the curse word is already on the edge of his tongue.

But Taeyong holds him still as if reading Jaehyun’s torrential emotion, keeping steady hands on his shoulder to ease him down. Taeyong grounds him. Jaehyun feels goosebumps running down his spine at how easily Taeyong controls his emotion, anger dissolving away into strange lull of calmness.

“I understand, hyung. I promise I will behave.” Taeyong turns to him, brows drawn low in apologetic expression, “I’m sorry, Jaehyunnie.”

“Don’t be,” Jaehyun shakes his head. “Don’t apologize to me anymore, Hyung. You did nothing wrong to me. Besides, I’ve been your fansite master all this time without your eye contact or anything, I’ll survive. I will manage, as long as I’m still allowed to come, I will be okay.”

Taeyong gives him a watery, tight lipped smile; the one where his lips are stretched upward but are pursed together. It’s the same one he used to give Jaehyun a long time ago when they were still coming back to the same dorm and eating on the same dining table. “Then, I guess, see you around?”

Jaehyun can feel Taeyong pulling away, Jaehyun can hear the manager is already leaving the topic of his attendance and moving on to another one about resuming the fansign. From the corner of his eyes, he catches the movement of the bodyguards, ready to separate the two young boys who are still locked in each other’s hold, keeping steady gaze on each other.

Before they’re forced to part, Jaehyun gives Taeyong another hug; one last hug. Taeyong sobs and clings on to him, like a lifeline, and Jaehyun draws him closer until they’re cheek to cheek, chest to chest; until he can feel Taeyong’s heartbeats right against his own, chasing after one another before eventually finding their perfect rhythm.

“I’m with you, Taeyong-hyung. I’m always, _always_ with you,” he murmurs, “so don’t worry, you will be alright. Okay?”

“I will,” Taeyong says, voice muffled by Jaehyun’s shoulder but it rings louder than anything else, echoes and reverberates until it shakes Jaehyun’s core. “I will be alright. _We_ will be alright-“

But Taeyong doesn’t have chance to finish his words because his manager, with the help of bodyguards, are prying the two of them away. “It’s time, the fans are waiting,” he says, sounding actually forlorn and apologetic like he doesn’t have it in him either to set them apart.

This time, Jaehyun doesn’t relent. He dutifully obeys them, eyes fastened on Taeyong who’s also keeping his gaze on him until he disappears and the door is slammed shut behind them.

It was Taeyong who broke the eye contact first, but Jaehyun doesn’t miss it; doesn’t miss the last, lingering look that spoke of too many things at one.

Later, Jaehyun would sort them and catalogue them one by one. For now, he only managed to pick up _promise_ and _gratitude_ ; promise of another meeting and gratitude of coming back into his life. Jaehyun closes his eyes, he counts from one to ten in his head until he regains his composure back, before he opens them again and finds the manager is watching him with tired expression on his face.

“You should go, our men will escort you until you’re in clear area.”

“I-“

“Our PR will be in touch with you,” the man hands Jaehyun his business card. “Make sure to e-mail me and give me details of your contact. We will have to coordinate with you for the official statement. Make sure you stick to the story.”

Jaehyun stares at the card with pink SM Entertainment logo on it. It suddenly dawns on him that the consequence of his action today is not only the end of his short-lived fansite career (which he had thankfully avoided with Taeyong’s help), but also the press. Taeyong’s presence in the group itself has been an issue since day one, with this recent happening; no doubt the medias are going to be all over them.

“I’m Kim Sangho,” the manager _finally_ introduces himself, offering Jaehyun his hand to shake. “For both of us, I hope you can cooperate, Jeong-ssi.”

Jaehyun clasp the man’s hand and gives it a firm shake, maintaining equally steady look on the man’s eyes, hoping he can see Jaehyun’s determination clearly; that’s he’s not going to stay _quiet_ should the man do anything to harm Taeyong. “Likewise. Please take care of me, Mr. Kim.”

With the man’s dismissive, “you may go,” and a curt bow from Jaehyun, he’s being escorted away from the building. The bodyguards take him through roundabout way that makes the journey out two times longer than when Jaehyun was being dragged in. They left Jaehyun alone at the parking lot, bidding their _goodbyes_ with nothing more than a firm need that Jaehyun replies with a terse, _“thank you.”_

He watches until the men’s figures disappear before he digs around his pocket for his phone. With trembling fingers, he manages to make a phone call to Sodam. And with voice that shake as much as his body, Jaehyun sobs out when Sodam picks up the call, “Noona…”

:::

Sodam takes Jaehyun to her place again, Chaerin and Junghwa naturally follow but compared to Sodam who fusses over him every now and then, they’re unusually quiet. Jaehyun can understand, after all, he just made a scene in a fansign by making their idols cry. He wouldn’t be surprised if one of his friends suddenly turned their back on him.

As heartless as it might sound; Jaehyun doesn’t care. At this point, with his senses is still flooded by the remnant of Taeyong’s presence, he cannot think of anything else. They can leave him, he will be okay.

He will be _okay_ as long as he has Taeyong, he doesn’t need anyone else.

But when they finally made it to Sodam’s place, surrounded by the pale pink wall of her room and faint scent of garden lilies that they have associated with Sodam, Jaehyun is struck with melancholy and realization that he doesn’t want to lose this friendship.

Chaerin, Sodam, and Junghwa. The three of them became Jaehyun’s pillar of support despite the relatively short time they have spent together. They give Jaehyun a reason to smile, to laugh, to check his phone after the sun rays gently knock on his closed eyelids.

They make him anticipate going out, stepping out from his own space to socialize. They make him feel _normal_ again as opposed to how he felt when he was still in high school after he’s forced to reckon with the fact that he’s not going to achieve his dream.

“I’ll make some tea,” Sodam says while easing Jaehyun to sit on top of her bed. “Junghwa, I still have some lemon meringue pie in the fridge. Will you help me serve them?”

“Yes, Unnie!” Junghwa agrees, then the two go for the kitchen, leaving Jaehyun alone with Chaerin who’s been giving him poorly concealed look of curiosity.

Chaerin is a good, honest girl. She cannot lie to save her life and Jaehyun likes her for it, appreciates her sincerity and bluntness that sometimes can rub people the wrong way even though she only meant well. Chaerin is the first ‘friend’ Jaehyun made in the fandom. He remembers their meeting as clear as a day as if it was yesterday; Chaerin helping Jaehyun to deal with a pesky fanboy who tried harassing Jaehyun by making rude remarks about Taeyong.

Jaehyun always feels that he owes Chaerin a lot of things, the truth about his relationship with Taeyong included. Jaehyun would tell the three of them today had it not for the arrangement that SME is going to make with him.

_Stick to the story_ , he remembers Sangho said, and even though unspoken, Jaehyun is sure they’re not going to release the actual fact of how Jaehyun was an SM Trainee before. The story opens too much possibility, too many openings to be twisted and turned into something much more malicious than what it actually is.

_Revenge. Resentment. Bitterness_.

Until SM tells him the kind of tale they’re going to spun and release to feed the media, Jaehyun has to remain silent, _sticking_ to the same story he’s been telling them again and again; that he and Taeyong knew each other. There has always been truth in that story, it’s just the girls choose not to believe him.

And Jaehyun just wants to protect him.

“So,” Sodam begins once they’re all settled down; Jaehyun and Sodam on the bed with the other two sitting on the floor, cushioned by Sodam’s floral-patterned sitting pillows. Their teas and pies are plated beautifully on the coffee table, but none of them touched it except for Jungwha who had already took a bite of her pie and Jaehyun with his steaming mug of tea in his hand. “I’d ask if you’re okay, but that’s kind of pointless since you’re obviously,” Sodam eyes him from head to the toe, “not fine.”

Jaehyun laughs at her comment, “yeah, obviously; not fine. You guys saw how I bawled my eyes out,” he sniffed as if in emphasis.

Indeed, that was how the three had found Jaehyun; crouched down in the middle of half-empty parking lot, crying his heart out with Taeyong’s name occasionally leaving his mouth in between his sobs.

Sodam had quickly kneeled down beside him to envelope Jaehyun in her hug, and Jaehyun cried harder because Sodam’s scent was _invading_ him and he was scared it’s going to chase the remain of Taeyong’s prescense away.

It took a while until Jaehyun calmed down. His cry gradually softening into quiet sniff and hiccup.  Sodam held him through his tears, Chaerin holding his hand, and Junghwa rubbing his back. “Let’s go to my place,” Sodam had said and that’s how the three of them ended up here right now.

“But I’m okay now, thanks to you guys,” Jaehyun smiles, looking at the eyes of each of them to get his message across. They all reply him with similar smile, except Junghwa and Chaerin’s are more guarded. Jaehyun sighs, “I guess I owe you guys, err, explanation?”

“You do,” Junghwa blurts out, earning her a sharp glare from Sodam and slap on the hand by Chaerin who musters some expletives under her breathe.

“Only if you’re ready of course,” Sodam quickly adds, still glaring at Junghwa who appears smaller under the older girls’ chastising eyes. “You don’t have to force yourself if you don’t want to, Jaehyun. We still have tomorrow and the day after-“

“-we will wait, but please,” Chaerin interrupts, placing her hand on top of Jaehyun’s knee. “Please tell us the truth.”

Jaehyun meets her gaze; unafraid and steady. She’s pleading, begging for Jaehyun’s honesty. No lies. No camouflage. Nothing. Just truth; truth in its most raw and purest form.

Something that Jaehyun cannot give them.

Jaehyun is scared because lying has become something so easy to do. Or maybe he’s more scared at how easily he lapsed back into that empty shell of heartless human being, with no guilt and no conscience, when it doesn’t directly concern Taeyong at all.

Chaerin wants him to be honest. Chaerin wants him to be honest, and Jaehyun tells himself that’s what he’s been doing all these times; being honest, telling them he knew Taeyong personally.

Technically, he’s not lying.

Technically, he’s just choosing not to reveal a certain piece of information that could jeopardize his and Taeyong's position.

Technically, he’s been telling them the _truth_ , only not all of it.

When Jaehyun smiles, it’s not sincere, especially if you compare it to the ones he had given to Taeyong earlier. But they don’t know; nobody can know, for the only ‘Jeong Yoonoh’ they knew of has been nothing but walking, empty carcass of who he actually is.

So Jaehyun – _Yoonoh_ – tells them, then, of the same story he had told them and will always tell them for days to come.

“I have told you guys before, right, that I knew him personally? And it’s just, it’s been forever since we met…”

He just wants to  protect Taeyong.

:::

Jaehyun e-mail-ed Sangho the next morning and gets his reply after he’s done showering and making his breakfast (fancy French toast with zealous amount of maple syrup, because despite his mood, he still loves eating more than anything).

Sangho CC-ed another person whom Jaehyun assumed to tbe their PR, a woman named ‘Hong Areum’, and she sends detailed instruction about how Jaehyun should behave for the next couple of months, included is the cover story and draft of their official statement regarding the event yesterday.

Jaehyun is _requested_ to lay low which is basically the polite way of forbidding him from attending any of NCT schedule until mid-August. Jaehyun fumes, stabbing his bread to channel his anger, but he actually understands why they’re doing this, so he cannot make any protest at all.

The cover story is surprisingly similar with what Jaehyun has been telling the girls, only less elaborate and only touching the big picture; that he is Taeyong’s distant relatives whom he had not met in ten years or so.

_They were like real brothers, so it pained Taeyong deeply when they had to part_ , they said.

Jaehyun snorts, shoving a piece of syrup-soaked bread into his mouth. _Damn right it pained them greatly_.

He replies the e-mail quickly, giving them his affirmation and hits the _send_ button. Not long after, a new e-mail notification pops up at the corner of his screen. _They reply fast_ , Jaehyun muses. This time, Areum tells him they’re going to release the statement around noon today, followed with paragraphed filled with no sincerity and only formalities.

Jaehyun doesn’t read that, he sends another reply that only consist of ‘ _thank you_ ’, finishes his lunch ( _brunch?_ ) then tells the _“tiyongie_ ” about his situation.

_That sucks, Yoonoh-yah TT TT_

_Don’t worry, we’ll take pictures for you :*_

_Have you eaten?_

_I have. Just had._

_Thank you, Noona_

_Yoonoh-yah TT TT I’ll say this again and again but you two are REALLY star crossed lover_

_I just wish they won’t start making weird rumors about Taeyongie again :(_

_Yeah, me too_

_I’m sorry_

_It’s okay, it’s not your fault!_

_\\\ o // cheer up, Yoonoh! August will come soon!_

_If they dare making nasty comments about Taeyongie IM GONNA_

_I’m gonna run them with firetruck_

_WHOOP WHOOP WHOOP WHOOP_

They chat some more until Sodam says she has to go, Chaerin and Junghwa follow suits. While Sodam is obviously treating him normally, the other two are not so much; they’re trying too hard in hiding their discomfort to the point they become painfully obvious.

Jaehyun doesn’t have a problem about it at all. He is fine.

He shuts the nagging voice at the back of his head that’s asking him if he’s _really_ fine.

He is, Jaehyun opens MELON to stream “Without You”.

He is fine. He and Taeyong; they are going to be _fine._

:::

Days pass in a blur.

With no fansite activity, Yoonoh’s life has returned to that canvas of dull grey and blue; boring routine of waking up to nothing to expect. He still checks his group chat in the morning, still follows NCT’s activity via his computer and smartphone screen, still saves dozen of Taeyong’s photos, and edits another dozen of the ones he took by himself, waiting to be published on his own site.

He takes more shifts at the studio, at some point has to leave for a week straight for another side job that requires him to go to Jeju for landscape photo. He goes with his mentor who just got engaged somewhere in April, Yoonoh barely remembers it because April for him was NCT U and Taeyong, and Taeyong, _and_ Taeyong.

He enthusiastically talks about his bride and wedding next year. Yoonoh listens to him with bland smile that they don’t even recognize as a bland one because for them, _this_ is how Jeong Yoonoh smiles.

He’s asked if he wants to be the photographer for the d-day. Yoonoh says,” of course, I’d love to. That’d be an honor.”

He prays to God that the wedding won’t clash with Taeyong’s schedule.

When Yoonoh returns to Seoul, Chaerin invites him for a dinner, attended by Junghwa and Sodam by default. The two girls have gradually returned to their _old_ -self, no longer over-conscious about the topic of Yoonoh and Taeyong together, they even joked about ‘ _YooYong’_ again which makes Yoonoh’s face burn a brilliant shade of scarlet, much for their delight.

Chaerin says her parents is taking her for family trip until last Augsut which means she won’t be there for “I’m with You” ‘s comeback. Sodam has plans on her own with some high school friends, and Junghwa has somehow managed to convince her parents she’ll be alright alone while they’re flying out of the country.

Yoonoh spends the rest of the summer uneventful, sometimes hanging out with Taeoh in between works he keeps on cramming to his otherwise empty schedule. He needs distraction; he doesn’t want to think of the days he had to spend without being able to see Taeyong physically. He even refuses to watch NCT Life in Paju and indulges himself with some short clips being uploaded on twitter.

When he receives e-mail from Sangho at August 8th night, telling him he can come again, along with notification that NCT is attending SMTOWN Tokyo on 13th, Yoonoh almost receive scolding from his neighbor for screaming out loud at 1 am in the morning (he leaves a box of assorted fruits in front of his neighbour’s door the next day as apology).

He gears up for airport departure on August 12th, polishing his cameras and uploading some pictures to tease his followers.

He doesn’t tell Sodam nor Junghwa when he leaves his home for airport. The weight of his camera bag on his shoulder is comforting weight, grounding him from the elation that’s about to make him soar to the sky and never coming back.

The airport is crowded as usual; the boys are yet to come when Jaehyun arrived. He readies his camera, assembling the detached lenses to its black, sleek body, then secures his position; always in the back, using his height to his advantage.

A couple of minutes later got Jaehyun thinking that maybe, _maybe_ it’s time for a change.

Maybe, it’s time for Jaehyun to be a little braver.

Maybe, it’s time for Jaehyun to be a little bit bolder and honest to his feeling; that he wants to have all of Taeyong’s attention to himself.

He knows that logically, Taeyong won’t be allowed to do so. But they didn’t say anything about forbidding Taeyong to give Jaehyun eye contact or some sort, right? Just _not too much_ , keep it moderate to avoid other fansite’s jealousy.

So maybe it’s fine, Jaehyun thinks, absent-mindedly weaving his way to the front, ignoring the grumble and protest of people around him as he presses his way through, camera gripped tightly in his hand. It’s as if he’s in trance, he’s being pulled by an unseen hands that insist that he should be here, right in the front of the crowd where Taeyong can see him.

“It’s them!” someone in the crowd announces, and Jaehyun holds his ground as people around him surge forward.

The door of the van slides open. Taeil steps out first, followed by the other members. Jaehyun and his camera is ready; appropriate shutter speed with largest aperture, balanced by hike up on ISO number to capture Taeyong sharply in his movement.

Taeyong steps out last. Hoodie pulled low over his face, and the way his eyes are pinched into half slits, lips pursed up in half pout, tells Jaehyun that his hyung was sleeping in the car. His yellow, spongebob –cased phone clutched tightly in his hand, and he’s resolutely keeping his head low as if avoiding people’s eyes.

The group starts moving, so do the people around Jaehyun. Sounds of shutter going down can be heard, echoing like rainfall all around him. Jaehyun lets his body take over then; capturing Taeyong’s movement when he crosses the street; long, infinite legs moving forward to reach his destination.

He swallows, finger on the button momentarily stills as memory of days long gone flashed in his head; fantasy of young boy who dreamt of seizing the stars for a friend, a dear friend whom he’d love to be with forever. Fantasy that a healthy boy his age should have, but the object of his delusion made the image inappropriate.

The girl beside him pushes him forward, Jaehyun almost tripped on his own legs but quickly regains his balance before he too, starts matching his steps with the boys.

Taeyong is getting close; so close, and Jaehyun keeps on taking photo, keeps the camera perfectly concealing his face so nobody can know, not even Taeyong, that it is him behind the lenses.

Eventually, Taeyong passes him. Not sparing a glance. Not giving a chance. Jaehyun feels his heart constricting in his chest.

But he takes the photos still, following after Taeyong from a frustrating distance that’s not quite close nor far.

The manager starts to yell something in attempt to open themselves a way, Jaehyun avoids bumping into him, not wanting to get into _trouble_ though logically, they should have known Jaehyun is coming today. Despite the disappointment, he decides it’s best for him to step back for now and concludes the day.

He takes down his camera, starts stepping back, and it’s in that exact moment that Taeyong stills then turn around.

Even under the shade of his cap and hoodie, Jaehyun can see his eyes; endless sea of glimmering constellation in obsidian pool of galaxy. They look straight into Jaehyun’s eyes, blinking, like sending signals from far away stars in language foreign to anybody but them.

And Jaehyun understands, Jaehyun can read through them. And so he says, in his own codes, in his own language, with simple movement of his lips, _“I’m with you.”_

Taeyong smiles, then he is about to mouth something back when Yuta pulls on his elbow, silently urging him to move because they’re getting left behind. He gives Jaehyun one last lingering look before eventually turning away.

He doesn’t look back. Jaehyun watches him leave.

:::

There is Jaehyun, still mourning over the fact that he couldn’t go to Hawaii when SM is holding their gigantic company holiday.

Then there is the elder Jeongs, engaging in a cold war about their Chuseok holiday. Yoonoh listens to his mother’s rambling through the phone while cleaning the junks in his inbox.

She tells him that his father is invited to the marriage of his colleague's daughter. He was his father’s best friend when when they were staying in US and apparently, they haven’t met each other at all despite regularly keeping in contact via e-mails and skype.

“Of course your father cannot refuse, this is David, and he’s been looking forward to meet him again after all these years. He didn’t have to tell me, I know, I’m his wife,” his mother sighs dramatically to phone.

Yoonoh remembers David. His father didn’t bring people home often when they were living in Connecticut, except David. Yoonoh remembers the tall, muscular man with seafoam blue eyes and dark blond hair curled in lazy ringlet. His laugh was boisterous as much as it was infectious, and he always smelt like seaside and sun. He remembers David taking him to surf too, but he doesn’t remember David having a wife, let alone a daughter.

Yoonoh asks his mother about this and she explains to him that David later had an affair with a professor, who’s already married, and then her mother stops abruptly, much to Yoonoh’s confusion.

“Mom?”

For a while, Yoonoh can only hear the sound of her mother’s breathing, and by some deep exhales later, he assumes his mother is feeling anxious about something, ‘something’ in particular being David and his lover of a professor.

“Mom, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” his mother says hastily. Another pause. Another exhale. Then, “it’s just, Yoonoh, this isn’t something we’ve talked about with you before, but we know you’re a _good_ boy, we believe we have raised you well enough to understand about _this_.”

Now, the cautious way of his mother when approaching this topic piqued his interest. Yoonoh stops working on his inbox and pours all his attention to his mother instead. “You know there’s no better parent than you, mom. I love you.”

His mother makes a cooing noise in between her giggles, Yoonoh’s heart claps in happiness at her amusement. He is an only child, and despite the many complexes and issues he’s dealing with in the wake of his failed dream, he still loves his parents and makes them happy. “I love you, too, Yonooh-yah, _Jaehyunnie_. You are my pride, will always be.”

“I know, mom, I know,” Yoonoh blushes, biting the corner of his bottom lips. “ _Geez_ , you’re making me feel like a five years old all over again.”

“You will always be for me. Not a five years old even, a baby in diaper with _mochi_ -like cheeks.”

“Mom,” Yoonoh whines, puffing out his said _mochi-_ like cheeks. “Come on, out with it, we were talking about David’s wife.”

At the mention of their abandoned topic, his mother gasps a tiny, “Oh!” follows it with another silence, before eventually dropping the bomb right on Yoonoh’s face. “You know, honey, David doesn’t have a _wife_ ; he has a _husband_.  When they met, his husband, Stuart? I believe? Just had divorced his alcoholic wife, and won the custody over his daughter, Claire. It happened after we left America, so of course you hadn’t meet any of them. Or knew that-“

“-that David is _gay_ ,” Jaehyun finishes for her, breathless.

“I hope you do not mean it as an insult or any derogatory term, because I hope we raised you better than that to judge people based on their sexuality,” his mother rapidly warns him. She sounds stern, sounds serious, like she’d really be upset if Yoonoh turned to be bigoted asshole who thinks lowly of people who doesn’t meet a certain traditional societal value.

Little does she know that Yoonoh is anything but _that_.

“Yoonoh? Are you there, honey?”

“I,” Yoonoh swallows the bile that slowly begins to creep up his throat. He feels dizzy, his gaze is unfocused. _Is this what he thinks it is?_ “I’m fine, mom. I’m just-”

“Disgusted? Grossed out?” she barrels in. “Yoonoh, dear, sweetie. Listen to me, okay? In this world-“

“-just taken aback mom, I’m fine. I’m not disgusted nor grossed out about it, you raised me well, remember?” Yoonoh interrupts him before his mother completely fallen into misunderstanding about him.

“You’re not?”

“No, I’m fine with it. Totally. Completely.” Yoonoh affirms. He stands up from his chair, leaving his desk for his bed. He takes his biggest pillow, the one with moomin-patterned pillow case that Heejin bought for him for his birthday this year, and holds it close, tucking it under his chin. He needs comfort, even if it’s as flimsy as a squishy, fluffy pillow. “Just- I didn’t think you’d be okay with it…”

“Oh, honey…” she sighs in relief, there’s a lilt of pride in her voice, too, but Yoonoh cannot feel anything else except _complicated_ right now. “This isn’t something we can easily talk about, nor something that usually comes up in our conversation. Of course unless you’re-“

“I am,” Yoonoh – _Jaehyun_ – blurts out.

Silence drops like a rock, “ _Oh_ ,” his mother says.

_Fuck_ , Yoonoh thinks. “Fuck,” he curses.

_Fuck_ , indeed. Why, oh, _why_ did he decide to out himself like _that_? No impromptu. No preamble. Nothing. It’s like accidentally knocking a cup full of coffee on a white sheet; unintentional yet the damage is done. The liquid leaving a huge, ugly brown stain on the previously pristine white cloth. Dirty. A mess. Yoonoh just wants to to hide in a cupboard somewhere and die from lack of oxygen.

While half of his brain is already on a rampage in blaming his idiocy, another half is trying to logically deduce the reasoning behind his out of nowhere confession. He supposes it’s partly, or rather; _mainly_ , because they’re speaking of the topic, and his parents, apparently, is so supportive about the whole _not being straight_ thing.

Adding to that is his recent reunion with Taeyong whom he’s been in love with for the past four years. Yoonoh has been waking up with sticky pants and bedsheets lately, mind clouded with the images his dream has conjured up for him; of creamy skin and big, enticing eyes blown in ecstasy, _Jaehyun_ ’s name spilling from swollen, red lips.

Then, _this_ talk had to happen.

Yoonoh never really talk to his parent about relationships. Ever since he dropped out from SM, he’s been showing interest only in photography, and his parents were nice enough not to pester him with any other issue, including romance.

Yoonoh had assumed that his parents are the type of parents that do not want their child’s education to be disturbed by something as _trivial_ as relationship. Seeing Yoonoh dedicating himself for photography, even if it’s not the most conventional ‘ _career path_ ’, must be enough to satisfy them,  especially his father.

He’s the one who drilled it into Yoonoh’s head to stay on top of his game, to be better than anyone else in his field, and when Yoonoh started gaining money from his hobby, his father had basically given Yoonoh his stamp of approval that ensured Yoonoh’s freedom from his parent’s meddling when it comes to his future.

His mother only started asking him about it after he attends college; _is there any cute girl? Cute senior? Do you hang out with your model after class?_

Yoonoh always weaved his way out of it by saying he’s busy (with fansites activity, though of course he doesn’t tell his mom he’s a fanboy who’s running an idol’s fansite) with classes and work to hang out with girls, let alone a relationship.

He’d often say that the models are mostly taken and _going out_ with them (his way of concealing ‘sleeping around’) is considered to be some kind of photography major’s ritual, so Yoonoh is not really interested since it’s not for a long run.

This occasion might not be the _right_ moment to come out, but for Yoonoh who’s been plagued with dreams of Taeyong straddled between his knees with chest heaving and panting, for Yoonoh who doesn’t think he can get any other chance than _this_ to talk with his parent about sexuality.

There might not be any _right_ moment than this.

“Yoonoh – _Jaehyun_ , honey? Are you there?”

“I’m sorry,” he moans, burying his face to the pillow.

When his mother speaks, Jaehyun can hear her smiling and it makes him want to cry so badly. “don’t be, honey. There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

“But,” he croaks out, feeling his throat going slick with incoming sob, “I’m- I can’t give you grandchildren now.”

“Oh, silly, you,” she laughs, she sounds so genuine, so true. She’s not angry, nor is she upset and disappointed. “There’s this thing called adoption, you know. Though I’m sure in Korea the process will be much more complicated for same sex couple.”

Her merry laughter is infectious that Yoonoh finds himself laughing as well, albeit wet with tears that have gathered on his eyes. Tears of happiness. Not of sadness, because his mother might just be incarnation of angel and Mother Teresa with how calm and accepting she is toward his son’s recently revealed orientation. “I love you so much, you know that?”

“Of course I do, Jaehyun. After all, I love you too, with or without biological grandchild you can give me.”

“God, I love you,” Jaehyun breathes out, rubbing the tears away from his eyes. He sniffs, “I’m sorry. I should have, you know, chosen a better and more appropriate time to come out, not like this. We’re not even face to face.”

“Then how about you come here, honey? I will be flying over to America in a few weeks, you sure you wouldn’t want to see your parents’ face before we leave? We cannot spend time together during Chuseok anyways, might as well come home now and have a talk about cute boys over some tea.”

Jaehyun laughs again, his chest is full with too many emotions; happiness, anxiety, gratitude, fear, excitement, worry. They expand his lungs, stretching it to the point he can hardly breathe, but his mother is waiting for his answer by the end of the line, and for his mother – his mother who has kindly, unconditionally in all means possible – _loves_ him, _accepts_ him, Jaehyun has to breathe.

“So, what do you think, Jae? Is there anything specific you want to eat? I’m sure your father will be elated to see you, you two haven’t met for a long time. He’s been asking me why you didn’t come home during summer holiday, you know.”

“Hmm, I’m thinking about _jaeyook bokum_ , I haven’t eaten that for awhile,” Jaehyun answers. “And he _is_ cute, mom, you have no idea how smitten I am.”

“ _Oh,_ so there is somebody!” his mother exclaims excitedly. “We can talk about him, yeah? While we cook together. And, oh, you know what, maybe you should drop by the supermarket first since I think we’re running out of meat here.”

Jaehyun smiles. He thinks of Taeyong.

He remembers Taeyong meeting his parents for the first time; shy _hello_ and timid smile that had made his mother cooed in adoration before smothering small Taeyong in her embrace. He wonders if his mother still remembers that boy with scar under his right eye who had finished an entire tub of ice cream alone.

He wonders if his mother still remembers the boy who had come to cry by Jaehyun’s hospital bed and never came to visit anymore.

He hopes his mother does. And he hopes, too, that his mother will understand the path Jaehyun has chosen. Of the choices that Jaehyun has made in the past three years.

:::

In the end, Yoonoh’s grandparents book themselves fancy, expensive tour to Jeju Island, while his parents leave for America. Jaehyun is left alone, feeling fuzzier than ever.

He sometimes wakes up to the dark ceiling of his room, images of his dream lingering behind his eyelids; of dream where he walks the aisles with Taeyong in his arm, his parents clapping happily with tears on their eyes.

So, yes, his parents actually approve of his sexuality. And, _yes_ ; they are okay with Yoonoh being infatuated with Taeyong, too.

“Of course we’ll be happy too if you decided to move on, though I assume it’d be difficult now that you have met him again and your fansite business,” his mother had told him.

_Yes_ , again. Yoonoh had told them about his fansite, too. Basically, he told them _everything_ that happened to him and he felt in the past three years. It was scary of course, revealing things that he never told anybody because he knew his feelings would be frowned upon will always be scary, even if it’s to the people who had given birth to him.

In his anxiety, Yoonoh had cried, and his mother had to hold him until he stops crying. With a reassuring squeeze on his hand from his father, Yoonoh finally spilled everything.

They were silent, listening to him quietly as Yoonoh narrated his story from when he joined SM then decided to befriend Taeyong with non-so-sincere motive that soon developed into a crush (and later, actual romantic feeling), to the last time he saw Taeyong in the hospital which motivated him to take photography.

He ended the story with what happened to him and Taeyong at the airport before the idol went to Hawaii. His father gave him a hug, whispered a quiet, _“I’m sorry_ ,” that Yoonoh replied with his own apology.

Even though the elder Jeong didn’t elaborate, Yoonoh knew his father felt guilty for unintentionally driving young Yoonoh – Jaehyun – to the wall with his teaching.

Yoonoh told him with teary smile that he didn’t – he _never_ – blamed his father. After all, his father let him pursue his hobby that Yoonoh can come this far. On top of that, he had accepted his son’s preference as well. In society this judgemental, Yoonoh would be punished by God if he ever resent parents as understanding as his own.

His mother starts following NCT’s activity after that, often sending Taeyong’s picture to Yoonoh as well.

_I remember he was so skinny back then, why is he still skinny? Don’t they feed him?_

_Poor kid, he really loved ice cream. I wonder if they forbid him from eating one. I remember seeing this girl group member and her horrible diet-_

_Oh! Do you think they will let me if I send him ice creams?_

_Yoonoh, I know you read this._

_Answer your mom, Yoonoh :(_

_Jaehyun!_

_He’s naturally skinny, mom_

_Either they limit his diet or his dance routine burns more calorie than he took_

_Or he’s tired_

_…._

_Mom you’re making me worry TT TT_

_I do too, honey, I do too_

_I don’t think they will let us feed him_

_TT TT_

_Mom TT_

_I know, honey, I know. We can only pray he’s actually eating well_

To put it simply, his mother basically talk about Taeyong as if he’s her own son. _Son in law_ , to be precise.

And if that alone wasn’t mind-boggling enough, his father _actually_ treats Taeyong more or less the same even though he didn’t bring the topic that much ever since Yoonoh’s revelation, whenever he did, he always spoke as if Taeyong has accepted Yoonoh’s marriage proposal.

_Do you think he likes black tie or blue?_

_Who?_

_Lee Taeyong_

_I_

_I don’t actually know, Dad_

_Why?_

_I wonder what color he’d pick for me_

_…._

_I will pick blue, it suits you_

So, apparently, his parents actually remember Taeyong.

Very fondly.

They told Yoonoh that whenever he spoke about the elder boy, it’ll always be with such reverence like Taeyong was the one who hung the sun and the moon in the sky. Meeting with the boy only made them grew fond of Taeyong because Taeyong was sweeter than Yoonoh always made him out to be.

Yoonoh’s mother even confessed that sometimes she wishes Yoonoh had kept in contact with Taeyong after his resignation, she didn’t miss how _blank_ his son had been sometimes, and Yoonoh felt guilty and embarrassed for thinking his parent never noticed.

Thus, the dream of making happy family with Taeyong, completed with parent’s blessing, has been constantly visiting him every night. There was even one with his mother helping Taeyong picking up his wedding dress which turned out to be Yoonoh’s instead of Taeyong’s (he had woken up with cold sweat, the quickly asked his mother if he looked good in wedding dress.

Her answer was, ‘ _oh, honey, remember when you danced Genie with my legging?’_  Yoonoh proceeded to pretend he never asked his mother that question in the first place.

Everything feels surreal, like he’s not quite living a reality. Like he is still in a dream, or maybe walking in between this thin line that separates fantasy with verity, and he’s not sure which side to step on because both are appealing enough to him.

More so because he is going to meet Taeyong. Again. Personally. Just the two of them.

Today, too, Yoonoh wakes up with another image imprinted on the back of his head.

Vivid color of red between occasional creams. Large, inviting black eyes speckled with brown. Long fingers burning trail on Yoonoh’s skin. _Taeyong_ . Taeyong calling his name and wrapping his legs around Yoonoh’s hips. _Taeyong_ -

Yoonoh pinches his cheek.

“Oww!”

Not a dream then.

Yoonoh slaps his cheeks with both hands, harder than his pinching. “ _Ffffuck!_ ”

Definitely not a dream.

Yoonoh spent the morning in a daze. He keeps on hitting the furnitures in his room, earning their mute sympathetic gaze in return. He spilled his milk on the counter when pouring one for his cereal. His coffee still tasted all wrong like usual. Yoonoh finished all of them, mind not quite residing in his head but has departed to some land faraway.

He washed his bowl and cup without making a mess thanks to muscle memory. He wasn’t so lucky when he’s about to take a shower, hoping it can actually wake him up from his trace. But he hit his left toe on the bathroom door, and Yoonoh had doubled over from the intense pain, wheezing.

“This is _not_ a dream.”

To understand Yoonoh’s constant display of clumsiness that’s been continuing for three days straight, we must rewind the time back to the said three days prior, when Yoonoh was helping Junghwa in picking up a present for his older brother’s birthday.

They hopped from one store to another in search for perfect present. Junghwa, despite her constant nagging about her brother (Na Minki), is actually very fond of him. Yoonoh, Chaerin, and Sodam agree Junghwa has a brother complex, but for her sake, they decided not to mention it. Ever.

Junghwa insisted that she’s going to buy the _greatest gift ever_ , which actually means Vans’ pro skate ArcAd that his brother has been drooling over, except Junghwa had blanches at the price, and said, “I’d rather buy this for Taeyongie!”

So, maybe, Junghwa loves his brother, but he loves Taeyong so much more.

They ended up entering and leaving different stores. By the 8th one, Yoonoh realized that Junghwa will eventually buy the sneakers in the end, she just refused to admit it being a stubborn _tsundere_ she is. Yoonoh decided to humor her anyways, trailing behind her back as she left yet another store and staff with fake, forced smile.

They were in the 11th, Junghwa was browsing through racks of colorful graphic hoodies while mumbling under her breath, when Yoonoh’s phone rang.

Yoonoh was checking out some for himself, and in that exact moment, he actually found one hoodie that he liked, so his brain was more occupied with the thought of trying out the clothes instead of answering his phone. Which resulted to him picking it up without checking the caller id.

“Hello?”

Silence.

Yoonoh pulled the hoodie out from the rack; it’s dark navy with two white stripes running down the sleeves. It’s simple, it’s practical, and functional. Yoonoh liked it. “Hello?”

“…Jaehyunnie?”

Yoonoh liked Lee Taeyong, with all his beings, that there’s no way he could mistake his voice for anyone else's.

Yoonoh dropped his phone.

“Yoonoh-yah?” Junghwa asked, surprised. She noticed Yoonoh’s phone on the floor first, flicked her gaze to the owner who’s currently stoned with jaw dropping to the floor, then back to the rectangle device. “Seriously, Yoonoh-yah, what is wrong with you? Did you just get a call from a dead person or something-“

Yoonoh watched frozen in horror when Junghwa bent down to pick up his phone, and when her finger grazed the surface of the screen, Yoonoh was snapped away from his trance. He practically dove for his phone, snatching it from under Junghwa’s nose, then held it close to his chest like his life depended on it.

In a sense; his life _did._

Like; _really, really did_ , because Lee Taeyong, his idol, his crush for five years, the love of his life, the sun to his moon, Altair to Vega, was calling him.

“Yoonoh-yah? You sure you’re okay?”

“I am,” Yoonoh answered, nodded. Mechanical. He almost heard the sound of his unoiled cogs creaking. “I just- this phone call. I got. It’s important.”

This time, Junghwa looked actually concerned. “Okay,” she said, “so, you, umm. Need to leave and answer it, I guess?”

Yoonoh nodded, over enthusiastically. “Yeah. Precisely. I will be back soon, I promise.”

She gave him a smile; confused but decided to not mention it. “Sure. Go ahead, Yoonoh-yah. I will text you in case I’m leaving the store before you finished.”

“Thank you, Noona,” he said before dashing out from the store, ignoring the weird look he’s receiving from the staff and other customers.

Yoonoh didn’t know where he’s running to. He just knew he got to find a relatively quiet place with little people where he can properly panic and make strange faces, because he’s sure he’s gonna react quite dramatically. This isn’t just anybody; this is _Lee Taeyong._

He eventually left the container-made building for an open area outside. Yoonoh found a relatively quiet corner with little people by a store that looked equally empty. He leaned on the wall beside the window, still holding his phone close to his chest, panting from the exertion of running. He had not taken a look at his phone at all, and it only dawned on him once he had regained his breathing that maybe Taeyong had hung up the call.

“Shit,” Yoonoh cursed, and when he finally looked at his phone, he felt his stomach hitting the floor, because Taeyong had indeed hung up the call.

Cursing once again, Yoonoh slapped his forehead. Of course Taeyong would hang up the call. It’s been more than five minutes since Yoonoh picked it up, and he hadn’t been answering him at all. He dropped his phone, stared at it as if it’s some kind of dangerous, biological weapon, and basically abandoned it in his state of shock-induced brain-freeze.

“Calm down, Jeong Yoonoh. Calm down, Jeong Jaehyun. He left his number. You can call him again. Call him again and be calm. Be square.” He wasn’t one for self-hypnotize therapy, but for now, Yoonoh was willing to resort to any means possible to calm down his erratically beating heart.

With trembling fingers, Yoonoh worked through his call log to find Taeyong’s number. He took one shuddering breath, composing himself like a man about to march off into war, before pressing the call button and presses the phone to his ear.

The call back tone stretched endlessly; teasing him, mocking him. He waited, breath stifling, and the longer it dragged, the more Yoonoh believed he’s gonna die soon. His face turned to an unflattering shade of pale blue when Taeyong eventually picked up.

“...hello?”

“Hyung?” Yoonoh asked hesitantly, still not quiet breathing.

There was more silence on the other end of the line, followed with what sounded like a whimper. Yoonoh opened his mouth to speak once again, when Taeyong answered, “it’s me. Yes. This is Taeyong.”

“Oh,” his lungs finally opened up. “Hyung, it’s really you.”

“Jaehyunnie?”

“Yeah, it’s me, Hyung. Jeong Jaehyun,” Yoonoh – _Jaehyun_ \- pressed the heel of his palm to his nose bridge, head dizzy from overwhelming euphoria.

“How did you- my number, where?”

“I remember,” Taeyong said, and Jaehyun can hear the sun shining in his voice; golden and merry. “They did search my phone, but I still have-still remember it, had it written down in my notebook. The one I used to write lyrics.

_Remember it_. Taeyong still remembered his number, still had it written in his lyrics book that’s probably dog-eared and ratty already from years. “Thank god, I didn’t change number,” Yoonoh tried to laugh it off but it came out more like a choke than anything with how short-winded he was.

Taeyong didn’t seem to mind, or maybe he simply didn’t pick up Jaehyun’s flustered state. “Yeah, I’m glad too. My memory wasn’t that good. I wasn’t even sure you’d pick up, what if it was someone else.”

“It’s me,” Jaehyun said quickly, trying to reassure him because he did hear the uncertainty in Taeyong’s voice. It was barely audible but Jaehyun _knew_ him inside out, and it made his heart flutter when he realized he’s still this capable of reading Taeyong despite their blank years.

“It’s you,” Taeyong sighed in relief. “I’m glad it’s you, Jaehyunnie.”

Jaehyun’s palm slid down from his nose to cover his mouth, holding back both of his sob and scream of joy. He swallowed; once, twice. When he spoke again, his voice was steadier than before, words flowing out into proper sentences instead of fragmented ones. “I’m surprised, didn’t think you’d call, Hyung. Is there anything you need?”

“I have always wanted to call, actually, or a simple chat. But they were keeping their eyes on me, so it wasn’t easy. I’m sorry.”

Taeyong sounded dejected, and Jaehyun hated it so much. He felt like hurling the plant pot beside him to Taeyong’s managers for making his hyung this gloomy. “It’s okay, Hyung. It's not your fault, stop apologizing. I know you’ve been busy, I understand. You flew in and out the country in between your practice and schedule, it must be exhausting. I’d rather have you rest well than worrying about me.”

“It’s exhausting indeed,” Taeyong spoke. Yoonoh drew an image of Taeyong nodding with weary, yet pleased smile on his face.

He knew how much his hyung loves to dance, loves to perform and be on stage. For him, this exhaustion was probably welcomed, the kind of strain he’s been longing for. So, he asked Taeyong, “but you enjoy it, right?”

“I do,” his answer was sure, with no room for doubt nor question. However, it took a downturn when he continued, “I just hope I’m doing it with you, Jaehyunnie.”

Jaehyun tried to keep his disappointment away from his voice with a chuckle. “I’m with you, Hyung. Always. When you’re working on stage, I’m rushing here and there to take perfect photos of you.”

Taeyong laughed at that, and it made Jaehyun wanted to shout from the top of his lungs about how much he loves Lee Taeyong’s laugh. “Mm-hmm, my fansite master.”

“Your fansite master,” he said, grinning stupidly like a love-struck teenager. He saw a couple of girls giving him weird looks and giggles, Jaehyun ignored them. “Your fansite master here wants to know what he did that he’s honored with this phone call.”

“Oh, that’s right!” Taeyong gasped, and Jaehyun imagined his already huge eyes going bigger. Cute. He must be looking so cute. “Umm, yeah, I called you, because…umm…” a beat of silence. A deep inhale. A long exhale. Then, “IwonderifIcanmeetyouduringchuseokholiday?”

“Excuse me?” Jaehyun asked automatically.

“Shit,” he cursed. There was another silence in which Jaehyun imagined Taeyong starting to bite his nails. Oh how much did he want to pry those beautifully abused fingers from Taeyong’s ruby red lips.

“It’s okay, Hyung,” he tried to calm _his_ hyung down, using the same tone from years ago when Taeyong was frazzled and strung-up mess of nerves under the tension. “You can tell me, take your time. It’s okay.”

Taeyong was still quiet but Jaehyun can _see_ him nodding, biting particularly hard on the nail of his ring finger before curling them together into a fist, pressing it against his lips, then he’d speak. “I’m sorry,” his voice was muffled, he sounded breathless, and so was Jaehyun, because, _fuck_ ; Taeyong was still the _same_ . _They’re_ still the _same_.

“Don’t be,” he muttered, chest felt too full with emotions.

“It’s just- it’s _stupid_ ,” Taeyong tried with bitter laugh. “I should have known- I mean, it’s _fucking Chuseok_ , and there’s no way- it’s stupid, but I want-“

He’s stumbling all over his words. He reminded Jaehyun of when they were younger, when Jaehyun was shorter than Taeyong, and his Hyung would laugh so hard until he could barely walk straight, legs refusing to cooperate.

Jaehyun would hold his hand, Jaehyun would guide him until Taeyong stopped threatening himself with nasty fall, and now, he’s doing the same thing; except it’s not Taeyong’s hand that’s he’s holding but his words, coaxing them gently until Taeyong can voice out his mind; his _want_.

“It’s not stupid, Taeyong-hyung,” he said in the calmest tone possible, hoping it could pacify the frenzy in Taeyong’s head. “You want something, hyung? You can tell me. You’re saying you want something, in Chuseok, and it’s not stupid.”

He heard Taeyong swallowing again, heard Taeyong taking another round of deep breath, and Jaehyun wished he could be there beside his hyung to rub his back. “But it is, Jaehyunnie, you’d think it’s stupid after you know.”

“That’s for me to judge,” Jaehyun huffed. “I don’t even know what it is, hyung. You gotta tell me first.”

“Okay, okay, I will tell you, so you can tell me it’s stupid.”

“Hey,” Jaehyun chided gently, “I told you that’s for me to judge, yeah? Taeyongie-hyung, could you please tell me what is it that you need in _chuseok_?”

From beyond the line, Taeyong whined, and Jaehyun felt himself _dying_ from the adorable noise that escaped Taeyong’s lips.

It’s not like he forgot Taeyong can be frustratingly cute (he’d know better than anyone, after all, he spent his teenage years resisting himself from kissing those lips whenever Taeyong did something that made Jaehyun’s stomach flip), it’s just he forgot the effect his loveliness had on him.

“It’s not fair, Jaehyunnie.”

“What’s not fair?” Jaehyun asked flatly to mask his giddiness. “Also, are you pouting?”

“You called me _Taeyongie-hyung_. And I’m pouting, what’s the problem with that?”

_Oh, absolutely nothing, you dear darling,_ Jaehyun wanted to say. Instead, he replied, “no, nothing, _Taeyongie-hyung_ ,” he purposely dragged the nickname for emphasis.

Taeyong whined again. Jaehyun just wanted to hail a cab and go straight to wherever Taeyong was and smother his sweet, adorable hyung in his hug.

“So can you please tell me? Can you please tell Jaehyunnie already?”

This time, Taeyong laughed, and it made Jaehyun’s heart burst into streams of tinsel and confetti, dazzling array of vibrant colors that painted psychedelic image of paradise.

His body hummed with mind-numbing bliss, wasn’t quite catching Taeyong when he spoke, but he did catch his last words, and, really, that’s the only things he needed to hear. “ –that being said, I was wondering if we could meet up in Chuseok holiday-“

The word left his mouth before his brain could process the entire situation.

“-yes.”

Taeyong in his head blinked. “Yes?”

“Yes,” Jaehyun repeated, mind reeling, legs trembling, lips quivering. But his decision was not; his answer was anything but. “Yes, I can meet you that day. Chuseok. Yeah. It’s fine. Totally. I’d like to.”

“Oh.”

“Yes,” he said again like broken record. Then he added, “it’s not stupid.”

“Oh,” Taeyong was just as broken as he was it seemed, because he, too, could only repeat the same exclamation for a while. “Oh. Okay. Okay. It’s not- oh, okay. It’s not stupid.”

“It’s not,” Jaehyun nodded even though Taeyong can’t see him. “Not at all.”

“Not at all. Not stupid,” Taeyong parroted him.

They spent another round of dumbfoundedness, repeating each other’s sentences like someone just removed large part of their brain for ice cream. It’s cold, it’s numbing them to the bones with its aching sweetness. Their brains were mush of melting ice creams; fuzzy, sticky, clinging to their ratios they could barely think straight.

It was Taeyong who regained a semblance of coherency first. The nervousness in his voice was thick as honey. “Umm, so, I can meet you.”

“ _Chuseok_ day. Yeah. Sure, Hyung, sure thing.”

“Okay, then. What-what about the place?”

“The place?” Jaehyun asked dumbly, still collecting his thought together.

“Yeah, the place. You know, where should we meet and all.”

“The place,” Jaehyun faltered. _The place. Where he and Taeyong could meet_.

The place; it should be perfect, it has _got to_ be perfect.

It’s gonna be the first time he and Taeyong can properly meet each other, not just quickly passing by each other or Jaehyun trailing after Taeyong who pretended not to notice him.

This time, it’s gonna be only the two of them. This time, there would be no screaming fangirls whom Jaehyun had to fight for Taeyong’s attention.

This time, they can talk, they can laugh together, they can touch and look into one another’s eyes after more than three years of unwanted separation.

If he called for Taeyong’s name, his voice will find a home in his hearing instead of dying in the wind, scattering into meaningless waves of nothingness. He can touch Taeyong’s knee when they are laughing, Taeyong can rub the back of his neck when Jaehyun is flustered. He can stare at his hyung for hours without anyone calling him out, and Taeyong can do the same without being afraid of warning.

Outside won’t do. Somewhere with people who can recognize them was not preferable.

Taeyong would be too wary of seeing eyes and he won’t be able to relax when all Jaehyun wanted is his hyung opening up to him after not seeing him for so long. He wanted Taeyong to be himself, to forget he’s an idol and leader of SM Entertainment’s next big thing. Just be Lee Taeyong who snuck eat ice cream at night with Jaehyun after a frustrating day of training.

Somewhere safe. A place with no prying eyes. Jaehyun crossed many names from list of possible places in his head until he’s left with nothing but one. He internally moaned. With the conditions he needed, it was the only logical place, but Jaehyun wasn’t sure if it was a sensible option so he had put the place’s name at the very bottom of his list. He raked his brain again, browsing through his memory for hang out spots he had visited.

In the end, Jaehyun was still down to one, and he was feeling all sort of complicated when all his arguments about ‘why he shouldn’t choose _that place’_ lost in the face of his own need, not to mention that logically thinking, it fulfilled all required condition of ideal place.

“You okay, Jae-“

“My place.”

“Huh?”

Jaehyun’s mouth felt dry, like someone had replaced his tongue with sandpaper. “My place. My apartment. I live alone,” he struggled to get the words out from his lips. His breathing became faster, and Jaehyun hand to pressed his palm on his chest to regulate his breathing. “It’s- nobody can recognize you there, so you don’t have to worry. And we, we can order. Take outs. Food. Pizza. Chickens-“

“ _Sujebi?_ ”

_Sujebi_ , Jaehyun thought. It’s Taeyong’s favorite food, one food that he’d never get sick of eating. “ _Sujebi,_ yeah, sure. I’d order it from your favorite place.”

“You still remember?” Taeyong asked quietly.

“Insadong?” the younger answered with no hesitation.

How could he forgot, those days were still fresh in his mind, blooming vividly in color of sunshine seeping through the crack of rooftops in narrow alleyways. He and Taeyong, still young, still round in the cheeks, still giggling as they playfully banter with each other with friendly slaps. Hand in hand. Tight. Inseparable.

_“Don’t tell Youngho I took you here, he’d be mad,_ ” he remembered Taeyong giggling, his long bangs falling all over his eyes, yet Jaehyun could see the mischievousness that lit his eyes bright clearly.

_“What about Yuta-hyung?”_

_“Don’t tell him, too. Don’t tell anybody I’m taking you here, Jaehyunnie, they’d be jealous. This is my favorite place and you are my favorite dongsaeng, you are special_.”

Jaehyun laughed, told Taeyong he’s his favorite hyung, too, and he’s special as well for Jaehyun. Taeyong had smiled; smiled in that ethereal way that reminded Jaehyun of flowers’ bloom, eyes and mouth curving into crescent moon with faint pink dusting his cheeks.

Little did Taeyong know that Jaehyun’s _‘favorite and special_ ’ meant something entirely different with Taeyong’s. Taeyong didn’t know about the less than innocent feeling Jaehyun harbored toward him. He’s oblivious to the dream that had Jaehyun waking up to sticky bedsheets.

If Taeyong knew, how would he react? Would he be disgusted? Or he’d welcome Jaehyun’s feeling? Would he push Jaehyun away? Or he’d pull him in?

Jaehyun flirted with that thought a lot, especially when he couldn’t hold his hands from wandering too high on Taeyong’s thighs, or when they were drenched, smelled nasty with sweats, yet the way those salty droplets slid down Taeyong’s neck made a certain part of his lower body stir awake.

Taeyong was always blissfully unaware, oblivious. He always looked at Jaehyun with moon in his eyes, sought after him like it’s a natural thing to do, tended to Jaehyun’s whim without complain. Taeyong’s adoration to him was unconditional, and it made Jaehyun guilty because his was anything but that.

Sometimes he wished he could stop, but Taeyong continued being blind, and while sometimes it pained him, Jaehyun was also grateful because it gave him an excuse to continue liking his hyung in the way a man should love a woman, not another man. In the end, he and Taeyong parted ways, and Jaehyun had decided to dedicate the rest of his life _worshipping_ Taeyong in the name of his feelings.

“You still remember,” Taeyong muttered, breaking Jaehyun from his reverie. There’s awe in his voice and Jaehyun wondered how he’d sound like if he discovered Jaehyun’s feelings.

“Of course, hyung. I do. It’s your favorite place, right? I still eat there sometimes.”

“Really? I haven’t been eating there for a while now,” the daze was replaced with dejection, and Jaehyun thought it’s good because it’s easier to deal with this trivial talk about food now compared to the implication behind his remembrance.

“Then it’s all good, right? We will order your _sujebi_ , full course meal even, then chicken and pizza for night snacks.”

“Oh my God, _honey pig_ ,” Jaehyun’s heart shivered at the the term of endearment. “I see you’re still eating a lot. No wonder you’re so tall, Jaehyunnie.”

“You ate too little,” Jaehyun smiled. “When you come over, eat to your heart’s content, okay? It’s _chuseok_ anyway, perfect excuse for perfect food.”

When Taeyong laughed this time, the trace of astonishment had completely gone. “okay, then, Jaehyunnie. Your place?”

“My place,” Jaehyun nodded, suddenly growing dizzy again at the realization that Taeyong is coming to his room. “Of course if it’s okay with you, hyung. I mean, if you want another place-“

“Your place is fine,” Taeyong cut him firmly, like he’s afraid if he had a moment of doubt, he’d change his mind. “I will come around- after 10? Before lunch?”

Jaehyun couldn’t really breathe, not sure if he could form a proper sentence with how stuffed he felt at the moment. _Taeyong. Is. Coming. To. His. Room._ “Anytime,” he managed weakly.

Taeyong told him then he’ll arrive around 11 and asked Jaehyun to send him his address. Jaehyun promised him he’d, and he’d really, really love to engage in more conversation with his lovely hyung despite his frazzled-brain. However, Taeyong told him he’s gotta go for another schedule, and he didn’t want his manager to be suspicious, so they had to end the call.

“So…I guess, see you later?” Taeyong sounded so sad, like he didn’t want to part with Jaehyun, which was pretty much exactly what Jaehyun felt.

But at least this time they settled it with amicable ‘ _see you later_ ’ instead of unanswered ‘ _don’t leave me_ ’, and nobody was crying. Nobody was roughly pulled apart from one another, and there was definite promise of another meeting. So Jaehyun patched close the weeping wound, forcing himself to be grateful and bid his own goodbye. “See you later, hyung.”

The call ended. Jaehyun’s knees buckled as his legs gave up on him. With a long, drawn-out sigh, he slid down until he’s crouched down, hands fisted on his hair. He gave it a yank, a particular hard yank that got him yelping in pain by himself, probably earning himself some quizzical stares, but he didn’t mind, because; _fuck_ , it hurt like a bitch, which meant none of this was dream.

Taeyong did call him.

Taeyong will come to his place.

Jaehyun wanted to scream, so he did; scream.

And that was how Junghwa found him. That was how Jaehyun ended up like this now. Taeyong is coming in three days, and in between making intimate reunion with his poor furnitures, Jaehyun would clean every now and then, wiping imaginary dust from table that he just cleaned not too long ago. It’s just Taeyong loves order and cleanliness, and Jaehyun doesn’t want to disappoint him.

So he cleans a lot that it becomes borderline obsessive. He washes his clothes once a day as opposed to once in a week, he spent almost an hour choosing Febreze’s scent. He avoided pizza and chicken so he can have hearty amount of them when Taeyong comes to visit.

Three more days, Jaehyun muses, pressing his forehead against the bathroom door that his toe just collided with. It aches badly, but just as bad as Jaehyun’s heart; floundering with fear and worry.

It will be alright. Everything will be alright. It’s just him and Taeyong, the two of them in his room, and everything will be alright. Jaehyun sighs, steals a glance at his calendar - the fancy one he bought for fansite schedule – the red circle stares back silently at him; imposing, intimidating.

It’s just- Jaehyun has fucked up before, what if he fucks up again? He just met Taeyong and he’s not ready to say goodbye again, so soon. Too soon. he still wants to spend more time with Taeyong, still wants to see more of those lovely smile closer. Not through his lenses but right there in front of his gaze, skin warm under his touch.

It’s too much to ask, Jaehyun knows. He knows if he’s not grateful for what he has now, God can easily take it away from him. But Jaehyun is human, only human who’s been deprived of what he wanted the most, and once he had a taste of it, he cannot get enough. Like Adam and the forbidden fruit.

This is all a mistake.

This; his busted up leg, this miscalculation of his feelings.

Everything is one big mistake, a proof that the universe indeed hates him. He thought he’d be okay, he thought he’d be fine with just watching Taeyong through his lenses. He thought supporting him, watching over him as he works hard to make his dream come true is enough for Jaehyun.

It isn’t.

Jaehyun wants more, a little bit and some more. Jaehyun cannot be really satisfied with such thin connection. Jaehyun wanted something stronger, something more formidable, something that cannot be broken by merciless time even.

Jaehyun wants Taeyong; all of him from his bleach-damaged hair to the blemish under his eye, his protruding toes and his too long pair of legs. His fear and courage, his anguish and agony. His joy and sadness, his amusement and gratitude. His tears. His smile. _All_ , he wants it all for himself, a part of Taeyong that’s exclusively reserved for him.

He had it once although he lost it. Then God decided to pull a cruel joke by dangling it right in front of his nose, taunting Jaehyun while knowing it’s a lost cause. Jaehyun knew it too; there’s no way his relationship with Taeyong can totally returned to how it was before. They have changed; Taeyong changed, so did Jaehyun. Even if the wounds are patched up, they’re not the same.

Not to mention that what Jaehyun truly wants is not only the privilege of Taeyong, but also his heart; his love. He wants to make Taeyong his thoroughly that no part of him is free from Jaehyun’s mark, all branded as his; Jeong Jaehyun.

But that, too, is impossible. Even more so than the previous one.

He knows it, but it doesn’t stop him from wishing, doesn’t stop him for seeing dreams with Taeyong laughing happily in his arms. He’s human, and just like human is allowed to have their moment of greed, Jaehyun is also allowed to be foolishly hopeful.

If he wishes too high and he falls, then it’s okay too. If he has to be the one who’s hurting and going through another cycle of suffering, Jaehyun is willing, as long as it’s not Taeyong who has to suffer the consequence.

Which is why he’s completely scared because if he fucks up, no matter what, Taeyong will bear more burn from it. He already had his career on the line before, and Jaehyun would rather die than make Taeyong go another hardship. It’s over. It should be enough. Taeyong doesn’t deserve any more misery.

He has to be careful. He must not fuck this up. Even if it’s excruciating, he must bear with it. This should not be about him and his three years of winter.

This is about Taeyong and fixing their friendship.

“Friendship,” Jaehyun murmurs, hating how the label sounds when associated with him and Taeyong. He wants to peel it off, rip it apart, then stick an entirely new label; but what?

At his own question, Jaehyun laughs, borderline hysterical, because, _God,_ of course. What could be more fitting than this, really? It’s ironic. It’s laughable. It’s pitiful and pathetic, but it’s true, it’s what they are.

Once his laughter recedes, Jaehyun chuckles bitterly. “Idol and fansite master, huh?”

Jaehyun runs his hand through his hair, heaving a long sigh. _Idol and fansite master_ , he thought it’d be enough, he thought it’d be fine.  It’s not, and Jaehyun is now given three days to sort his feelings out.

The problem is; he doesn’t think he want to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second part of this long-ass ride. 
> 
> THANKS A LOT FOR EVERYONE WHO HAD READ THAT MONSTER OF 22K AND LEFT COMMENTS, AND KUDOS, AND, WHOA, your comments left me speechless, I had to rewrote some of my answers to your comments because you have written such beautiful, beautiful words, and none of my reply can adequate to that. Thank you, truly. If I could, I'd write a long essay about how much your comments mean to me, but that'd take one whole another "chapter" in A/N sections, so I'll "reply" it by writing more jaeyong :")
> 
> This fic only have 3 chapters and with the 2nd one posted now, we only have the final left. It will be updated somewhere in August, I'd like to give at least 1month gap every chapter since 1 chapter is 20k+ and that should be enough for a month ;) /no i know it's not, we DO need jaeyong everyday, and BLESS us they keep on giving in this era. BLESS US/
> 
> After the release of SUN & MOON, I consider either writing TY's side of this story OR a sequel. At this point it's just an idea poking my head, nothing is decided. But I'd like to hear what you think; TY's side OR a sequel, and why?
> 
> Apologies for any mistakes, timeline or place inaccuracy. Canon-linear/divergence.


	3. We can be a Little Happier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taeyong of NCT and Jaehyun, his fansite master, find their closure.

_ Take my hand and draw a circle _ __  
_ This is how much we’ve shared together _ __  
_ My whole heart is by your side _ _  
_ __ Your dreams are by my side

Without You - NCT U

:::

Jaehyun dyes his hair brunette the very next day. Two days later, he wakes up at 6 o’clock in the morning, greeted by the sight of his navy blue ceilings. 

Blue. It doesn’t particularly remind him of anything, but his head is full with  _ Taeyong, Taeyong _ , and  _ Taeyong _ , so even his bleak ceiling reminds him of Taeyong.

Jaehyun groans out loud, pressing the heels of his palm to his eyes.  _ Taeyong is coming today _ .

The thought makes his stomach lurch, his lungs constrict, and his throat tight. Jaehyun cannot breathe at some point and he has to exercise his breathing to calm himself down. “Fuck this,” he curses at his own weakness. He’s so pathetic.

Time goes on, the usually inaudible ticks of clock grows impossibly loud in Jaehyun’s ears. He became too conscious of them, and so is to the fact that Taeyong’s arrival is drawing closer.

Jaehyun realizes that moping around indulging his insecurity won’t do him any good. He should start his day so he’ll have more time to get ready and not end up making a fool of himself when Taeyong arrives, let’s say; still he hasn’t brushed his teeth because he’s too busy daydreaming about Taeyong  _ in his room _ .

After rubbing his face harshly, Jaehyun then gets up from the bed with a jump. He is lucky that in his journey to the bathroom, he didn’t collide with any furniture. He takes the cleanest towel he owns (which nowadays means the towel he washed a day prior because he’s been doing the laundry every now and then lately), then takes his ‘bath’ which is  more like ‘standing under the shower doing practically nothing’ than cleaning up (he uses the soap and shampoo, mind you).

Jaehyun wears his jeans and dries his hair before putting on his shirt, not minding the chilly morning air that raises goosebumps on his naked skin. He fluffs his hair with his fingers when they’re half dry, letting it air dry, then slips into a white sweatshirt.

Jaehyun stares at his reflection in the mirror. Saying this himself, he looks  _ good _ ; long legs, toned arm, blemish-clear skin, dark brown eyes beneath silky-looking dark caramel hair. His clothes were simple, nothing too fancy nor too dull for a friend coming over. Oh, how Jaehyun would love to call it  _ a house date _ instead.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he tells himself on the mirror. “It’s going to be okay.”

Jaehyun spends the remaining hours getting ready. He cleans minimally, not that there are many spots he can work on with how obsessive he was being lately. He makes his order meticulously, making sure every food he wants are placed, and they will be warm upon delivery (he checks thrice after the first call, and he probably upsets the guy, but Jaehyun doesn’t care).

Jaehyun grows anxious when he realizes there is no more trash to throw and little amount of laundry (he is still sensible that doing laundry every single day is a waste of detergent). In his frenzy, he ended up going to minimarket for random snacks; chocolates, chips, all greasy and unhealthy stuff he’d be thankful of buying when exam or stress-season comes around.

He occupies himself by visiting stationery stores, chatting with the  _ ajumma _ who sells cigarettes by the subway exit, charges his t-money card even though it’s fully loaded, then goes back to the convenience store for ice cream. By the time he arrives home, it’s still nine forty three, and Taeyong won’t be coming in another hour.

He dives face first to his bed, plastic bag full of ice creams and snacks forgotten on his coffee table. They’re mostly Taeyong’s favorite which by default means Jaehyun’s favorite as well. He wonders if they’d have time to finish them at all, they still have the full course meal Jaehyun has ordered and will be delivered at 12 sharp, then they’d get themselves pizza and chicken. How long will Taeyong stay anyway? Until night? Does he have to follow a curfew?

Jaehyun growls to his pillow, frustrated. He has so many pent up nervous energy that sends his stomach into queasy frenzy.

His mind won’t stop buzzing with fear and anxiety. He’s afraid he is going to mess up again;  _ what if he makes Taeyong cry? What if he and Taeyong ends up fighting? _

Just like that day in the fansign, Jaehyun’s brain decided now is the best time to be ‘creative’. How Jaehyun wishes it’d be creative for something positive, not something negative like this; writing the worst case scenario and perfectly conjuring the image down to its details.

Jaehyun hates his brain, hates his mind, hates whatever he ate in the morning that sends his brain to this state of unnecessary overdrive. He needs to stop thinking, quick, or he’d cry, or worse; throw up.

He needs to distract himself with something. Raising his head from the pillow, he looks around his room. There is nothing to clean anymore, nothing to wash, no photos to edit or assignment to work on. No phone calls to be made or schedule to be revised.

Nothing. He just hopes he and Taeyong won’t end up as ‘nothing’.

“Fuck this,” Jaehyun curses loudly to his empty room. The coffee table looks at him, judging, and Jaehyun stares back. At its empty surface, at its spotless top, and Jaehyun realizes there is still  _ something _ to be done even though his obsessive neatness had left him with  _ nothing _ to clean and tidy. The table, he hasn’t made his table yet.

So Jaehyun starts working, pulling out the plates and cutleries from the shelves, arranging it on the table like he is an artist and the coffee-table is his canvas. Bowls for rice here, plates for side dishes there, the pink rabbit chopstick stands he received from Sodam on the bottom right corner of the table.

He purposely changes the table arrangement couple of times just because he wants to be preoccupied; it stops him from thinking about his potential fuck up. It makes him forget his worry and anxiety, and he is being productive, he finds comfort in there.

Jaehyun was checking himself for what seems to be the hundredth time that day on the mirror, playing around with his newly dyed hair and considering if he should change his clothes, when his doorbell rang.

He freezes immediately, staring at his own reflection on the mirror; slack-jawed, bug-eyed, possibly not breathing, and blood stopped flowing at some point beneath his neck because his face was getting paler and paler every passing seconds.

The bell rings again; once, twice, there’s a gap between the third and the forth, and when the fifth doesn’t come at all, the freeze-spell around Jaehyun’s body melted away.

Jaehyun swears he never moved that fast in his entire life; he makes a mad dash towards his door, internally thanks All The Lord in Heaven when his fingers managed to unlock the door without fumbling or dropping the keys (he had about twenty three scenarios that involved him dropping them, and only three of them ended up with him eventually meeting Taeyong at all. Five had him opening the door eventually but Taeyong already left).

Spurred by the fear generated by his unnecessarily imaginative mind, Jaehyun doesn’t give himself time to gather himself at all. Or maybe because he knew if he gave himself the time, he’d end up reconsidering his decision to invite Taeyong in (worst-case scenario ended up with him not opening the door at all, and out of forty five scenarios that involved him thinking behind the closed door, thirty nine of them ended up with him keeping the door closed).

So, without thinking, with fear, without hesitation, with adrenaline that rushes through his veins and makes him hear nothing but the frantic buzz of his heartbeats, Jaehyun pulls the door open.

Jaehyun swears at that very moment, he was not breathing at all.

There, standing before his door, is Taeyong.

Lee Taeyong. Born July 1 st 1995, approximately 173 cm tall even though his profile officialy said he’s a couple centimeters taller. He’s wearing a grey hoodie under a black down jacket, the hood is pulled low to avoid people from getting full look of his handsome,  _ handsome _ face. His hair is dark brown, looking dry from constant bleaching, but to Jaehyun, even those damaged strands are lovely.

They fall all over his eyes. His eyes are large; dark as raven’s wings, glimmering orbs of black that reminds you of Midnight Lake surface; serene and reflective. Mysterious, drawing you in. Only if you look closer you can see the flicker of dark brown in them, but even without, his eyes are beautiful. Always beautiful, the most beautiful part of of Lee Taeyong that never failed to arrest Jaehyun’s heart.

Their beauty is further emphasized by his lashes; not necessarily too long but full and evenly framed around his eyes. Jaehyun remembers how they would flutter whenever Taeyong blinks curiously, remembers the shadow they cast when Taeyong closes his eyes, remembers the tingling sensation they leave on Jaehyun’s skin whenever they held each other close after a long day of training full with wrong steps and undoable mistakes.

Under his right eye, there’s a scar, result of childish impatience and genetic sickness. The imperfection reminds Jaehyun that Taeyong, even with his all-too surreal beauty, is still a human. He has flaw, physically, and maybe he’s defected too at the unphysical part of him, but it doesn’t make him any less. If any, it makes him even more; more human, more real, more lovely, and incredible, because despite all he’s lacking, he’s still pulling through, he is still shining bright and true.

He is still that one star that illuminates Jaehyun’s dark, lightless path. Guiding him through the maze of his conflicted heart, blinking now and then to remind Jaehyun he is not alone; he’s never truly alone.

And now, Taeyong is blinking at him, staring straight into Jaehyun’s eyes with wordless question and unarticulated expectation. Jaehyun sees a sliver of white digging at tender pink, brows furrowed together under heavy curtain of bleach-damaged fringes. There is fear, there is worry, there is apprehension spoken by his facial expression, and it squeezes Jaehyun’s heart.

Jaehyun finds himself breathing again, he smiles, strained on the edges yet genuine still, and when he stumbles with his words, he hopes Taeyong understands that he is not alone in his anxiety.

“Taeyong-hyung…”

“Jaehyunnie?”

The effect is immediate. Taeyong smiles; smiles like rising sun and flower blooms, and they’re beautiful either way with the tenderness they carry as they reveal their true brilliance. Jaehyun suddenly cannot speak again, but he can breath still, and he can smile, too, so he smiles wider, letting his face and body do the talking for him.

Taeyong understands - he  _ always _ does - and if he could, Jaehyun would cry right when Taeyong steps closer until Jaehyun can hug him without moving from his spot at all. He doesn’t hug him.

Taeyong’s eyes smile together with his lips; he is grinning now – with teeth and gums and all the things that make him look younger than he actually is. So childlike, so innocent; so similar to Taeyong that Jaehyun saw three years and some more ago before Jaehyun’s leg gave up on him, and forced Jaehyun to give up on his dream as well.

“Hi,” Taeyong greets brightly like  _ fucking _ sun, and  _ fuck _ , is Jaehyun blinded. “I’m here, it’s me.”

“It’s you,” Jaehyun says, breathless. His hand is still holding the doorknob tightly, the coldness of the metal strangely comforting. “Hi. I’m- Hi, welcome.”

Jaehyun steps sideways, unspoken ‘ _ come in’  _ and Taeyong understands. When Taeyong looks at him, it’s with unspoken confirmation, ‘ _ can I, really?’ _ so Jaehyun opens the door a fraction wider, and when Taeyong’s smile widens, Jaehyun thinks a part of him dies a little. “Excuse me, then.”

Taeyong comes in then, he passes Jaehyun, drifting a clean scent of seaside, crashing waves, and sun as gold as the smaller man’s smile. It reminds Jaehyun of summer and the bumps of their sweat-slicked skin as they run from the minimarket to SM building after buying sea-salt ice creams. It smells a little bit like his own perfume; and Jaehyun likes the superficial connection.

“Nice room, Jaehyunnie! Did you decorate this on your own?” Taeyong asks after looking around Jaehyun’s small, navy-walled room. He’s looking at Jaehyun now, not his room; not his minimalistic furnitures and empty frames either. Those huge, entrancing eyes are locked on him

Jaehyun’s stomach does all those cheesy things written in romance novels while he himself is bind by frozen spell. He manages quick, mechanical nods. A shaky “yes”, and the “it’s small, and a little bit cramped, but it’s the best I can do. Make yourself at home, Hyung,” that comes after is hopefully more convincing.

“Thank you. It’s nice and cosy, very homey. Neat and clean, too, I like it.” Taeyong continues his praise, making Jaehyun’s ego swell.

It eases his tension a little bit, so he continues sheepishly, not quite looking at Taeyong’s eyes but at the brim of his cap. “Hyung, you like everything to be clean and in order. I’ve been cleaning a lot lately.”

“Ahh…are you saying that the room is usually in a state of perpetuate mess?” Taeyong teases with a grin and wiggling eyebrows.

Face bright red, Jaehyun sputters, “no! I didn’t mean- I’m usually- I always-“

Taeyong laughs, laughs so happily that his eyes narrow into slits and nose scrunches up. Teeth and gums all revealed. Jaehyun groans in embarrassment, covering his face with his hands – just like how he always did in the past.

And this easy, this friendly, maybe they are not living in the “now” where Taeyong is an Idol and Jaehyun is his fansite master. Maybe they are living in the past; three years ago when they were trainees with only rivalries complicating their relationship.

It feels natural, it feels  _ right _ , because it was how it went three years ago. And maybe that’s what Taeyong is thinking when he circles his hands around Jaehyun’s wrists, because that’s what they did three years ago - Taeyong prying Jaehyun’s hands away to reveal his embarrassed face, complete with the laugh and the grin, and the eyes that remind Jaehyun of glowing crescent moon.

But this is  _ now _ ; 2016, September. There are so many things beyond rivalries that make their relationship complicated. Taeyong is not supposed to laugh this easily in front of Jaehyun, he is not supposed to touch Jaehyun either.

A voice in the back of his head tells him maybe he’s been over-exaggerating this.

Taeyong might be an idol but he is not some sort of sacred Maiden who’s not allowed dirty human touch or something. He’s allowed to have friends, to hang out with them openly under the sun without fear and worry about his career. Moreover, Jaehyun is a guy, there will be no risk of dating scandal if Taeyong is spotted with him.

And that’s exactly the problem, isnt it? Because Jaehyun might be a guy but the feeling he harbors for Taeyong is not something a guy should have for another guy - a male idol nonetheless. Even though other people might see the two of them like normal friends, that’s not how Jaehyun sees them, and that’s the problem.

There is a string; still tangled, still messy and jumbled. Still unclear where does it start and where does it end. Still a giant ball of shambles and turmoils that Jaehyun has kept for three years and some more months. A monstrosity of knot made up of guilt, fear, confusion, anxiety, and love; love that runs too deep when it shouldn’t be.

But does anybody know?

No, no one knows.

All these entangled strings and hunched up knots are all in Jaehyun’s head. Nobody is gonna make a fuss if they spotted Taeyong and Jaehyun together, why must Jaehyun be so conscious about it?

_ It’s my fault _ , Jaehyun realizes. The humiliation chains him, a cold biting strangle around his windpipe that hitches his breath into a muffled gasp.

His apprehension translates well through his skin, apparently, because he feels Taeyong stilling as well, hears breath sucked in abruptly too, and it snaps all the binds around him apart.

This isn’t about him and his three years of regret;  _ this is about Taeyong. _

“Jae-”

The hands around his wrists loosen but before Taeyong can draw them away completely, Jaehyun lowers his hand, revealing half of his face and prays that his eyes can speak what he actually means in place of his mouth. “I’m fine,” he croaks out.  _ It’s okay. You can touch me. It’s fine. Don’t be afraid. _

When Taeyong speaks, he sounds as breathless, and it makes Jaehyun’s stomach stir because he might not be the only one who’s feeling uneasy. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-”

Taeyong looks positively guilty. It kills Jaehyun to know he’s the one who caused Taeyong to make such expression. He should be making him happy, not the other way around. “No. It’s fine, hyung. I’m fine. It’s just, i’m still shocked, I guess. I mean...”

He gazes at their joined hands, at the loose grip Taeyong keeps around his wrists. A solemn, crooked smile and fond gaze. He lets Taeyong see a sliver of his vulnerability.

“I can’t believe this is happening, that’s all...”

Jaehyun catches Taeyong following his eyes, looking at the same spot where his tanned skin meets Jaehyun’s fairer one. With a sigh, he murmurs, “neither do I...”

“Mm-hmm. It’s been, what, three years?” Jaehyun asks, pretending he doesn’t count their separation down to the days and hours.

“And some more,” Taeyong trails his gaze upward, from Jaehyun’s hand to his half-covered face, climbing up the slope of his nose until his eyes find Jaehyun’s own. The younger finds breathing a chore again, by this time, it’s almost like a routine. “How are you doing, Jaehyunnie?”

Jaehyun wants to be honest –  _ wants _ being the key here. He  _ wants _ to but the food is coming soon and he’s not sure if he wants to talk about how he is  _ doing _ over the meal that Taeyong has been looking forward to. He contemplates for a while, stares at his Hyung, then he finally pries his hands away from his face, letting Taeyong see his apologetic smile. He answers, “I’m well.”

Taeyong sees through his lie like Jaehyun is a transparent glass. He knows, understands, always does and has always been. He smiles too, just as sad and apologetic. “Me too.”

Jaehyun laughs. This time, it lacks the joy that should be there but full with understanding.

He doesn’t know whether he should be glad or not. Apparently when it comes to these kind of things - of lying and playing games - they’re on the same page.

:::

The food comes soon after. Jaehyun accepts the order while Taeyong arranges his belongings neatly on the corner of Jaehyun’s bed. Since the table is already made, they waste no time in plating, removing the dishes into the laid out plates and bowl.

Taeyong carefully pours the  _ sujebi _ , taking great caution as not to spill any of the soup to the pristine clean table. Jaehyun watches, fascinated by the grace that Taeyong exudes just by simply pouring out dishes. He guesses he really is that smitten after all.

But all of this; ordering lunch and making their tables together, is sweetly domestic. Jaehyun forgets his heartache for a while, smiling brightly at starry-eyed Taeyong who cannot seem to take his eyes away from the mouth-watering dish before them.

_ Cute _ , Jaehyun internally coos. Outside, he says, “shall we?” while raising his chopsticks with dimpled-grin.

Taeyong looks at Jaehyun like Jaehyun is the one who hung the sun and the moon on the sky. “Thank you, Jaehyunnnie. These are all my favorites.”

“I know,” Jaehyun says cheekily. “Come on, Hyung, let’s eat.”

“Let’s!” Taeyong beams.

He tries the food by clockwise order, taking one bite for each side dishes then makes delighted hum of approval for every single of them. “Good?” Jaehyun asks, he hasn’t tried anything at all, too distracted by his hyung’s adorable way of eating.

Taeyong has his mouth full, right cheek bulging, so he can only answers with a thumbs up, the other hand covering his chewing mouth. He also gives Jaehyun an enthusiastic nod that draws a fond chuckle from the younger brunette.

“I’m glad. Eat to your heart’s content, Hyung. These are all for you,” he gestures to the dishes on the table.

Taeyong swallows his food. “You too, Jaehyunnie. You haven’t touched your food at all.”

Jaehyun blinks, surprised that Taeyong notices at all. He chuckles shyly then glances at his own plates. “Yeah, I guess I should.”

They exchange another smile, another grin and small laughs, before digging into their own meals.

They’re relatively quiet when they eat but Taeyong supplies some conversation, telling Jaehyun about how Taeil is the one who helps him cooking, and lately Donghyuck joins them too (this one is accompanied with huge, proud grin). Mark and Winwin are useless in the kitchen, so Taeyong have them handle the cleaning instead.

Jaehyun listens attentively, giving nods or affirmation here and there with ever-present smile, eyes never leaving his Hyung’s animated face.

Taeyong has shed his jacket and hoodie, left in soft black cotton t-shirt and jeans. Like this, he is so carefree, so casual, like he is not the leader of SM’s future breadwinner group who shoulders the weight of 15 young boys and counting. Like he is not an idol with scandalous past that keeps haunting him wherever he goes and whatever he does.

Once again, Jaehyun forgets they are in 2016. He thinks of dorm room filled with young, bright-eyed boys. Boys who woke on Sundays with bright peals of laughter and loud banters. Boys who did more mess than actual cleaning when they hold the mops and the brooms in their hands.

Taeyong is still living that life now, waking up to people who share the same dream and fatigue with him, while Jaehyun wakes up to mute ceiling by himself.

His heart aches with longing. He misses his friends and coming home with weary limbs, misses delegating the tasks and chores, misses cooking for his Hyungs and Dongsaengs. He misses dancing and singing too.

But above all, he misses Taeyong in his everyday. He wants to see Taeyong in the morning, all soft and sleep mused with dark bags under his eyes. Missing his step, and accidentally bumping to a furniture or two. Wincing in pain as he makes his way to the kitchen for a glass of cold water.

Jaehyun misses helping Taeyong cook, either just washing the rice or cutting the onions. He remembers not knowing the difference between ‘dicing’ and ‘slicing’ that he had to face Taeyong’s frustrated glare.

He remembers cowering under that sharp gaze and berating himself. But then Taeyong told him it’s okay and he taught Jaehyun to do it the right way, Yuta unhelpfully watching beside him while occasionally throwing jokes, much to Taeyong’s annoyance.

He misses watching Taeyong dance with all the lights turned off, misses Taeyong chewing on his nails as he poured his heart out in piece of a paper. He misses simply being there for Taeyong, just watching him quietly and praying that whatever his Hyung works hard for will be paid in the end.

And he misses Taeyong turning to look at him, smile tired and reticent, but there’s hint of happiness on his eyes, shining with silent gratitude upon finding Jaehyun was still there for him.

He  _ hates  _ how he can only do missing now.

“But I can never let Donghyuck and Mark wash the dishes together, they make more mess than actual cleaning,” Taeyong tells him.

Jaehyun knows this, already familiar with their Dongsaengs’ antics. However, Jaehyun doesn’t know the layout of the room, the kitchen’s furniture, nor the color of plates and utensils they’re using. Jaehyun doesn’t know where they bought the curtain, the kind of detergent they use now, or the brand of rice cooker they’re using.

It’s familiar yet foreign at the same time. It makes his loss even more real. It stabs through his skin, skewers his heart. Jaehyun tries not to let it show, asks Taeyong about the younger members without looking at him in fear that Taeyong will catch the sadness that he’s sure is reflected on his eyes.

“Are they living in the same dorm with you?” Jaehyun picks up a kimchi.

Taeyong shakes his head, chews his rice, then swallows before answering. “Nope. They’re in a different dorm. I check on them sometimes. Oh! Remember Jisung? He’s so much taller now, he’ll probably catch up to me in no time.”

His eyes are sparkling again with pride, further brightened by affection. Jaehyun wonders if Taeyong will do the same when he returns to the dorm and tells his members about Jaehyun; will Taeyong also talk about him with the same fondness? The same admiration? Will he speak about Jaehyun like Jaehyun is the most amazing thing in the world like the way he is talking about Jisung right now?

“- and there are Chenle and Renjun, they’re Chinese trainees. Bunch of sweet kids, really. Renjun loves Moomin, and I got the feeling he’d love you too-” Taeyong continues talking, seemingly unaware of the wistful look Jaehyun gives him, or maybe Jaehyun is just getting better at controlling his expression.

“They must be lovely,” he commented, pouring himself another portion of  _ sujebi _ .

Taeyong beams. Lovely and aureate golden of sun. “They are! And there’s Winwin, too-”

Jaehyun smiles while sipping his soup. He wonders if there’s a creature that dies under the sun while pretending his heart doesn’t hurt at all.

He also pretends that he’s not wishing he is Winwin, so he can be there and present in Taeyong’s life.

:::

They wash the dishes together. It’s Jaehyun who starts the water fight, begins with a flick towards Taeyong’s direction. The elder huffs in annoyance, but doesn’t react on the teasing until the fifth flick that gets to his face. He sputters, glares at Jaehyun with puffed cheeks and pouty lips.

“Cute,” Jaehyun cannot help but say. His inner self immediately starts beating him for letting it slip, but thankfully, Taeyong is too distracted with his revenge to notice it at all.

They ended up doing more splashing water at each other than the actual cleaning, but Taeyong is laughing so loud and open, it’s a win-win situation for Jaehyun, even if they have to clean his sink and kitchen counter after that.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have done that,” Jaehyun chuckles while drying his hands.

Taeyong has finished a little bit earlier and is now sitting on his bed, stretching his legs forward. “No, it’s okay. I shouldn’t be reacting either, it was immature of me. Besides, we ended up dirtying your kitchen, I’m sorry.

“Nah, it’s all cleaned up now,” Jaehyun shrugs while gesturing to his now dry kitchen. Taeyong still gives him an apologetic smile nonetheless.

“Come here,” the elder says, patting the empty spot beside him.

Jaehyun blinks a couple of times at that, processing the request with brain that suddenly ceases its function.  _ Did Taeyong just ask Jaehyun to sit with him? On Jaehyun’s bed? _ “Yes?”

Taeyong giggles. Jaehyun swears he’s not imagining Taeyong’s cheeks go a couple of shade darker. “I said;  _ come here _ . I’ve told you about my life, now it’s your turn to tell me about yours.”

“Oh,” Jaehyun says dumbly, still blinking in astonishment.  He supposes it’s true. Taeyong just told Jaehyun about his life now, filling him in with the parts he’s missing. It’s only fair for him to do the same, to tell Taeyong what he’s been doing. This is the least they can do when they can no longer always be part of each other’s life.

“Is it okay?” Taeyong asks, suddenly looking unsure and losing his earlier enthusiasm.

Jaehyun mentally beats himself once again. “Yes. It’s okay, totally. Completely.” He quickly plops down beside Taeyong, and in instinct, he squeezes the elder’s knee, an old habit that he thought he had lost.

Jaehyun’s breathing stills upon realizing his action, but thankfully, Taeyong doesn’t seem to mind at all. He looks at Jaehyun with relieved smile. “Now, tell me how did you end up as my fansite master?”

Jaehyun tells Taeyong not about his prolonged winter but about the camera that his father bought for him, about his first photography class, and his mentor who picked up his talent.

He tells Taeyong about traveling at young age for work, tells Taeyong about the exposure triangle and rule of thirds. Adjusting dials while catching up to ever so changing light, holding his breath for the sake of in-focus picture.

All of them have been ingrained to his body and Jaehyun won’t be surprised if someone dissected him and found it written in his cells as a part of his genetic codes.

He tells Taeyong that, too, and he doesn’t realize he’s been smiling until Taeyong points it out for him. “You must have really loved it, huh?”

_ You? Yes, I do _ . His heart answers but his brain tells him it might not be the right feedback nor the question at all. Jaehyun settles with a simple, “what?”

“Photography. Hearing you talk like this, you must have love it very much,” Taeyong explains while giving him a tender and somewhat lonely smile.

Jaehyun wants to ask him what’s wrong, what makes him have such lonesome expression on his face? He stares at his hyung for a while, searching eyes and it surprises him that Taeyong isn’t even trying to hide it at all. The answer is there, out in the open for Jaehyun to pick up and understand. “Hyung, I-“

“I’m sorry, it’s so shallow of me, to think that photography is taking you away from me,” Taeyong laughs, eventually averting his gaze from Jaehyun’s. He looks down on his laps instead, swinging his legs up and down, but Jaehyun can still see his forlorn smile, imprinted on the back of his head. “It’s just…Jaehyunnie, I…no matter what happened, I’m still the same selfish and petty child, I guess. I’m sorry.”

Jaehyun wants to tell him that it isn’t true at all. Taeyong is nothing like what he just described himself to be. He’s not shallow nor petty. He is not selfish either. He is open, welcoming arms. A home to come back to for his members.

A strong reliable pillar they can lean on to when they’re feeling tired. Taeyong is their center; he has to be strong, stronger than anyone for the people he has to lead. All the while without anyone he can hang on to

How could someone like him be petty and selfish? Who dared tell Taeyong such disgusting, blatant lie?

If it’s the stupid ‘keyboard warriors’, then Jaehyun will make sure he not only downvotes them but report their IP Addresses and sue them for defamation. If it’s someone from the company, Jaehyun will pull a string or two to make sure they’ll never dare open their mouths to say such hideous thing anymore.

If it, God forbid, one of the members, he will personally come to slap them on the face before hammering the reasons why Lee Taeyong is the most beautiful and incredible being ever walked this rotten earth.

For Jaehyun, Taeyong is everything. He is the sun that rises in the east and sets in the west. He is the moon that wanes and waxes on the sky. He is the stars that twinkle endlessly from some far away, uncharted galaxy.

He is the spring that eventually comes to visit Jaehyun’s land of everlasting winter; green vines and vibrant bushes of blooms. Powder blue sky and fluttering petals of pink. He is the affable sunlight that melts the gloomy snow, and he is the season that Jaehyun has always been waiting for to free his imprisoned heart that is inside a cage of ice.

Jaehyun will never forgive anyone who hurts Taeyong, even if that ‘anyone’ is himself.

Now, Taeyong is tormented with loneliness and jealousy, because Jaehyun  _ loves _ photography, not dancing and singing anymore. He doesn’t know what exactly is running in Taeyong’s head but Jaehyun knows that it makes Taeyong feel like he’s being replaced.

When they were trainees, they’re bound not only by their friendship but also by their routines. Now, Jaehyun’s routines include going to college in between his photography schedules as opposed to going to school and their practices.

It further emphasizes their separation, that they are now leading and living two entirely different lives than what they thought they’d have when they were children, still connected by the ‘trainee’ label their company gave to them.

Jaehyun is no longer a trainee now, neither is Taeyong. Jaehyun is now a fansite master and Taeyong is officially a debuted idol, but Jaehyun wants Taeyong to know that everything that has led him up until now, everything that had made him, who he is now, is all Taeyong, Taeyong, and Taeyong. It has never been no one else, it has always been one and only person.

And Jaehyun wants –  _ needs _ – Taeyong to know. If he can’t tell Taeyong about the love that has taken root in his heart since Taeyong went along with his bald-faced lie, then he hopes at least he’s allowed to tell Taeyong about this.

That it’s Taeyong and the promise they made under the vast expanse of blanket called starry sky, the very same promise that Jaehyun broke when he ruined his leg.

“ _ I’m with you _ ,” he had vowed, witnessed by mute yet watchful millions of stars.

And even though he couldn’t exactly keep it anymore, he still tried. He wanted to make it up somehow for the elder boy, and the only way he knew is by supporting him.

A fansite, then.

He will capture Taeyong’s charms with his lenses, immortalize it in his picture, and show them for the whole world to see. He will make them love Taeyong with his photos, he will make them see what Jaehyun sees in him and make him irrevocably in love with the boy whose beauty goes beyond his physical appearance down to his very core.

He certainly didn’t pick up photography because he wants it for himself; he did it for Taeyong.

In the end, Jaehyun loves him still, with the sureness that never change nor lessens, only seems to fortify with time. Photography doesn’t add more to the already stretched distance between them, if any, it takes Jaehyun closer to Taeyong compared to when he resigned from SM three years ago.

Jaehyun wants to explain but he doesn’t really know where to start. There are too many, too many things between them that need to be said and some others that maybe are better left unsaid. He needs to sort them apart one by one, deciding which one to shed the light on and which should stay in the dark forever.

To do that, he needs time, but time is a luxury he can never afford no matter how many professional lenses he has in his possession.

_ How unfair _ , Jaehyun thinks. But maybe, that’s just how it should go because time, like reality, is cold and unfeeling. If it doesn’t stop for someone as benevolent as Taeyong, why should it stop for Jaehyun?

“I’m sorry,” Taeyong murmurs again, still looking at his laps, still not looking at Jaehyun. “I’m dragging the mood down, aren’t I?”

_ Yes, you are, _ Jaehyun thinks again.

But he also thinks that it’s okay, like this, down under, it makes him see things from different perspective; it allows him to see the bigger picture. Jaehyun knew what he wants to achieve today, but he didn’t know what he should do to make it happen.

Now, everything is much clearer, it’s like seeing through looking glass inside of blindly fumbling in the dark “Taeyong-hyung?”

“Yeah?”

“What do you think about trying out photography?”

:::

Jaehyun leads Taeyong to a park located uphill, approximately seven minutes from his flat if they walk in normal pace, and can extend as far as ten if they take their time. Jaehyun is taking their time, snapping pictures every now and then while showing Taeyong the basic of using DSLR.

Taeyong was reluctant to step out from Jaehyun’s room at first, but Jaehyun coaxes him with dimpled smile and inviting eyes, hands stretched out open for his Hyung to take, and he knew it’d work, simply because it never failed him three years ago. Why should it fail him now?

_ Precisely because it’s been three years _ , the sound of reason says. Jaehyun has, however, long since paying attention to it. His hearing has been numbed by winter that last too long, he can hear nothing but the howl of arctic wind, which in his situation, is akin to his icebound heart’s.

“So, this is aperture,” Jaehyun says, pointing to the numbers in the middle. “It’s the opening. It controls the amount of light that enters the camera. It’s like pupil in our eyes. The bigger it opens, the more light that comes in. It’s represented by f-number. Here, you see my camera is set at f-1.8. It’s a small number, right? But in aperture, it’s all backward. Smaller number means bigger aperture. You following so far, Hyung?”

Taeyong nods, mechanical, then says, “yes.”

Jaehyun laughs. “I guess that means no, then?”

“I’m sorry,” Taeyong sighed, shoulders sagging with remorse and probably frustration at his own incapability.

“Hey, it’s totally okay. I get it. It can be overwhelming at first. DSLR is far more complicated than point and shoot camera. That’s why people go with them, the camera does the job for them and all they have to do is press the shutter button.”

Jaehyun reassures him with gentle pat on the back. He fiddles with his camera setting, fixing the numbers that he knows will work the best with their current light condition, then gives it to Taeyong.

“Here, photography, like dancing, is better to be learned by doing. Try it. I’ve taught you about the ISO and shutter speed before, right? You can easily change them with this dial here.” Jaehyun taps on the dial, Taeyong’s finger automatically move to the same position.

“Outdoor, 100 to 200 ISO. Shutter speed above 1/250,” he repeats what Jaehyun had taught him earlier.

“Great! Now, try it! Let’s see,” Jaehyun looks around and whistles in excitement when he sees a wild cat passing by.

Gently, as not to further aggravate his fidgety Hyung (he doesn’t blame him really. Jaehyun still remembers how overwhelmed he was when he’s taught the basic of DSLR for the first time), he places his hand on Taeyong’s shoulder, and steers him to the right direction, pointing at the cat with his other hand.

“Try with that cat, Hyung. It tends to move fast so you might want to hike up the shutter speed for a bit. You remember how?”

“The dial,” Taeyong says, already peering through the viewfinder and aiming his lens at his ‘model’, his finger clumsily turning the dial. “Stay still, pussy cat. Stay still...” he murmurs while pressing down on the dial.

A familiar  _ snap _ , then Taeyong pulls his face away from the camera. He bites down on the corner of his lips as the camera shows him the picture he just took. The cat, apparently surprised by the shutter sound, has already fled the area. Jaehyun peers on the screen, careful so he’s not leaning in too close for Taeyong’s comfort although the lack of protest about his hand that’s still resting on top of Taeyong’s shoulder should have spoken enough already.

“How?” Taeyong asks, angling his head slightly aside. In true romance  _ manhwa _ style, he could have kissed Jaehyun’s cheeks. Jaehyun doesn't’ know whether he should regret his decision of giving Taeyong personal space or not.

“Good! Even the cat is looking at you, you got the right timing, Hyung!” he praises Taeyong, grinning widely and earning Taeyong mirroring his expression in return.

“It’s just one photo, though. I guess i shouldn’t be satisfied yet?”

Jaehyun praises himself, too; praising his coral-reef-strong self-control because without it, he would have leaned in and kiss Taeyong already. “Unfortunately, yes. In the beginning, it won’t be easy to get consistently good photos even though you already got the hang of your camera. There are many other factors, like the light, the clouds. The composition and all.”

“The timing?” Taeyong remarks.

“That too. It doesn’t matter much when it comes to still-life photography, like food photos? And product photos. But when you’re photographing moving object, timing is the most important thing.” Jaehyun nods while explaining. His eyes fall to the screen that’s showing Taeyong’s first work, noting which setting of camera he should toggle to get better picture.  _ So maybe we can lower the ISO- _

“Like capturing me?”

“Like captu- what?”

Jaehyun turns his head back toward his Hyung and he immediately recoils upon realizing how  _ close _ they have become. Taeyong has, apparently, not only moved his face closer, but also his body that he’s practically leaning on Jaehyun.

He looks at Jaehyun straight in the eyes. There is nothing but genuine curiosity inside those pair of glimmering onyxes. Oh, if only they know what they did to Jaehyun’s heart that he’s sure is about to burst out from his chest.

“Like capturing me. I mean, I danced and all when I’m performing. When I’m at the airport, I walk. I’m restless anyway, I’m barely standing still, yet you always managed to catch me. So sharp and in-focus. That’s because you have mastered this  _ timing _ thing?”

“I,” Jaehyun falters, he tries to catch up with Taeyong’s speech, but the first thing he registers is, “you saw my photos?”

This time, it’s Taeyong’s turn to falter. He ducks his head down, pursing his lips into tight line in his jitter. “Y-yeah. I did. I looked it up. IMWITHYOU147?”

Jaehyun sputters. He’s usually proud of the photos he has taken (he has two years of professional experience under his belt after all), he never has any doubt toward them. But the thought of Taeyong seeing his works, seeing how Jaehyun practically bared his soul open for the world and Taeyong to see, makes him feel overly conscious about them.  _ Oh God, he never tweeted a weird caption, did he? _

“Am I wrong?” Taeyong asks, sounding aghast in face of Jaehyun’s silence.

“No! You’re right. That’s. Yes. That’s me. I’m- yeah, it’s my account. It’s my fansite. IMWITHYOU147. I’m with You, that’s mine.”

“Thank God, I’m not wrong,” Taeyong sighs in relief, tense lines disappearing from his shoulders at Jaehyun’s affirmation. “Your photos, how should I say it; they’re different?” Taeyong frowns at his own explanation. “I don’t understand photography so I cannot say much. But you always managed to, I don’t know, capture me in a different light? I saw my other fansites’ photos too, but nobody does it like you. Your photo has a character, it’s original. I like it.”

Jaehyun doesn’t tell him that it’s all intentional. He always uploads later compared to the other fansites, observing what kind of photos they upload. If Taeyong from a certain angle has been posted by too many fansites, he avoids posting them, choosing another one that hasn’t been revealed at all and it usually portrays Taeyong in  _ less than conventional _ way.

Sometimes he’s pouting, sometime he’s fixing his hair. Sometimes he’s making weird, endearing faces, and some other time he’s conquering not only the stage but the heart of audiences with his diamond-cut gaze and powerfully fluid dance.

Jaehyun was a dancer too, he loves to capture the details of the choreography. Often it means sacrificing full-shot of Taeyong’s face, but as long as he can capture his Hyung’s charisma that his body exudes, Jaehyun knows the photo will speak for itself. After all, Taeyong is in his most beautiful when he dances, a flower in full bloom.

He loves taking shot of Taeyong’s anatomy as well; his fingers, the scar beneath his eyes, the sharpness of his jaw that contrasted with the softness of his hoodie, his lashes, his favorite bracelets, his long and slender legs.

He loves all of them, with no bound and no condition. He wants to cherish them, and hopes people who see his photos will see the same thing that he does; they are all parts of Lee Taeyong and they’re equally precious even if some of them are flaws like his poorly bitten nails.

“They’re really good, Jaehyunnie. I love them,” Taeyong speaks softly but loud enough for Jaehyun to hear without straining his ears. “Thank you.Thank you for capturing me so beautifully.”

Their eyes meet once again in silent conversation. Something passes in between, something unspoken but understood. Jaehyun is half in trance, too charmed by the sincerity in those doe eyes, when he says, “just…you’re beautiful, so the photo comes out like that.”

Taeyong laughs – merry, a little bit coquettish - and Jaehyun marvels at the lack of bashfulness that he thought would be there.

Or maybe he’s marveling the childish mischief that colored his joyous grin in splash of gold and caramel-dyed violet, he doesn’t know, he does care only a little.

He cares more about the way Taeyong jogs up the slope, his long legs carrying his small frame in excited steps. “I know I’m pretty,” he calls out, breathless from his laugh and his little exercise.

Jaehyun is breathless too for an all too entirely different reason. But he is grinning too, and when Taeyong starts to jog backwards, still laughing; still all teeth and pink gums, and diamond cut jaws that contrast with the softness of his cheeks, Jaehyun feels, for the uptenth time that day, that they’re not twenty something already jaded with life, but teenagers made of dream and hope.

“Race me uphill!” Taeyong challenges before turning around and making a dash for the park.

“Don’t drop my camera, Hyung!” he calls out before running after Taeyong as well.

In the end when they reached their destination, they’re both panting with laughters slipped in between. Jaehyun could have won but he lets Taeyong have it, just to humour his Hyung, and the elder looks at him with triumphant grin, eyes crinkling at the corner and cheeks pinkening from exertion. “I won!”

“You do, of course,” Jaehyun admits, nursing his breath and wiping the sweat that starts dampening his forehead, making his bangs stick to his skin uncomfortably.

It’s mid-noon, a little past two pm, and the park they’re in is relatively deserted compared to usual. People probably prefer to spend their time at home, surrounded by their family they’re separated from in daily basis by things called life and routines, or sleeping their fatigues off.

Taeyong could be one of them too.  _ Heck _ , he should be. He’s working his ass everyday and he cannot meet his family whenever he wants. Yet, he is here, with Jaehyun. He  _ prefers _ to spend his time, his rare holiday, with Jaehyun. For that alone, he supposes he should be grateful.

“Ice cream,” Taeyong suddenly says, making Jaehyun frown at him in confusion.

“Huh?”

“Ice cream, remember?” Taeyong asks, tilting his head aside with a smile that suddenly loses a little of it’s radiance.

_ Ah, _ Jaehyun remembers now, he can almost hear  Taeyong’s voice, much younger yet still so similar.

“ _ The loser gotta buy the winner ice cream!” _ he said before making his dash, either to the practice room or to the convenience store. Back then, Jaehyun too, had let the elder win even though he could easily outrun him. But the sight of Taeyong, all bright and happy like the ball of sunshine he is, beat his ego back to its cave.

“I remember,” he answers, “chocolate, yeah?”

Taeyong beams at him, grinning so wide he’s revealing his straight row of pristine white teeth and smile lines. He does this silly little dance, complete with the whoopings. It invites another of Jaehyun’s boisterous laugh.

Suddenly it doesn’t feel like they’re in 2016. Jaehyun doesn’t feel like a twenty something jaded with life and broken dreams. He was fifteen all over again; body still young and growing, made  whole of dream and hope instead of patched up by gauzes and stitches.

It’s 2016 though, because Jaehyun is a little taller than Taeyong and the distance between them speaks more of three years than a couple of metres. Taeyong finishes his silly little dance and is eagerly looking around the pretty much deserted park, Jaehyun’s camera cradled securely in his tiny hands.

Jaehyun doesn’t bring clock to know the time, but he  _ does know _ that this isn’t the best time for photography. The sun is in difficult angle, still too high and cast light’s that’s too harsh.  _ A little bit more to four should be better _ , the photographer inside of him speaks. But then there’s Taeyong, all too keen on taking pictures, and for Taeyong and his starry eyes, Jaehyun will cast his professional pride aside.

“Jaehyunnie…”

“Yes?”

Jaehyun hears the familiar sound of shutter going off. Beyond distance that stretches between them is Taeyong, lens fixed on Jaehyun. He cannot see his face, hidden behind the huge camera, but Jaehyun thinks he can  _ see _ him; can see the big black eyes that always speak more than his tiny pink lips ever could, can see the slope of his nose and high cheekbones, can see his diamond-cut jaw and fullness of his cheeks.

He can see all of him beyond that lens, beyond that aperture, beyond that man-made eyes made of glass and plastics. He  _ sees _ him, and wonders if Taeyong saw him too like this when their position was reversed; when it’s Jaehyun taking pictures of Taeyong as he graces the stage with his presence.

He wonders if Taeyong can feel what Jaehyun was feeling; to be able to see every part of him but not really seeing.

“You’re not smiling,” Taeyong says after some time, and Jaehyun doesn’t let go of the slight strain by the end of his voice.

“…Hyung.”

Taeyong keeps the camera still as if he’s hiding his face. “Why?”

As if he’s not ready.

There is distance between them, less than a metre but longer than three years.

There is sun racing to paint its golden-hue over them from between the cracks of rustling leaves. There is Jaehyun with his legs closing that distance, and with every step he takes, he imagines he’s erasing each days and hours they spent away from each other.

Jaehyun stops just before him, maintaining a little space between them. Like last boundary. Like the wall called their ‘relationship’ that’s still standing and keeping them apart. Idol and fansite master.

He reaches out for his camera, fingers sliding past Taeyong’s skin and smooth body of the camera. He shivers at the warmth that transferred, at the contrasting coolness pressed against his skin.

Taeyong stills. He says nothing when Jaehyun pries the camera away from his face then takes it to his own, handling it with ease that comes from years of habit. Jaehyun doesn’t dare looking at Taeyong’s face, instead, he adjusts the camera setting, chuckling internally when realizing Taeyong is setting the shutter speed too low his photos probably will come out too bright.

Eventually satisfied, Jaehyun steps back, returning to his previous spot then only when he aims his camera at Taeyong, he finally catches the expression of his Hyung’s face.

It leaves him breathless, but he always is when it comes to Taeyong. It’s nothing new.

The elder is looking at him; at  _ him _ not at the lens.  _ How can you tell the difference _ ? A mocking voice asks him in his head. Jaehyun shakes it away, continues taking pictures, still not really breathing, because Taeyong is  _ looking at him  _ like it’s first time seeing; all wide-eyed and cheeks flushed, and his lips are parted a little.

_ Why? _ This time, it’s his own voice asking. Jaehyun steps forward, the trees and leaves blur into splash of green and brown, leaving only Taeyong sharp in focus.

Just like his world; nothing else matter but Taeyong, Taeyong, and  _ Tae- _

“Jaehyun?”

It’s moment loaded in magazine. Jaehyun stops. Taeyong does too. Breathing. Moving.  _ Anything _ .

There are words threatening to spill from his mouth, words he has been keeping all for his himself these past years for they have nowhere to go even if Jaehyun let them sail. There is a feeling he keeps locked securely by chains in a box made of iron.

And now he is in front of him; the harbor to his unsaid words and the key to his Pandora’s box.

Jaehyun wants to let them out, to unleash this ruin and wreckage of emotion that’s been snowballing inside of him for far too long. They’re lodged in his throat, prick and burn like hot needles. Somebody needs to pull the trigger so they can be freed.

But if a shot is fired, can anybody assure him that no one will get hurt?

_ This is not about you and your three years of winter. This is about Taeyong and fixing your friendship. _

Jaehyun weights the options in his head. In the end, he decides to lower the gun. He swallows those words back even if they tore scars open in his throat.

He presses the button again, letting the last shutter go, before lowering down his camera. Taeyong is still looking at him with eyes far too expressive and lips less than so. They hold questions too much to count yet with too little answers. When Jaehyun approaches him, soft smile on his face, he pretends he doesn’t understand any single of them while in fact, he  _ does _ .

“There’s this place with killer coffee and desserts. Let’s go there? We can take pictures of food.”

Taeyong, like Jaehyun, swallows his words back. He nods and gives a quiet, “okay.”

“Great!”

Jaehyun walks ahead of him. There is distance once again between them, this time, it conveys the tale of prolonged winter and broken promise.

Taeyong isn’t doing anything to break that.

Jaehyun smiles to himself, resigned but amused. They’re more alike than he thought they were.

:::

The owner of the caffe they’re visiting is a lady in her sixties. Nam Kanghee is her name and her husband is a sailor who’s seven years younger than her. She sees no problem with it despite the frequent jab people used to make at them during her younger days. She’s proud, and Jaehyun thinks it makes her even more beautiful despite the lines and wrinkles.

She makes killer coffee indeed, puts Jaheyun’s pathetic attempt of one to shame, really. He doesn’t even think his shit of ‘black water’ deserved to be called one actually, but it’s still made of coffee beans, therefore, it’s still coffee.

Taeyong doesn’t really fancy the bitter drink, so Jaehyun asks Kanghee to make it sweeter. She gives him a hazelnut latte with extra caramel syrup instead and Taeyong’s eyes sparkle at the first sip. He showers Kanghee with praises and she rewards him with extra dollop of cream on top of his chocolate pecan pie.

Kanghee doesn’t seem to recognize Taeyong at all, to Jaehyun’s relief. He doubts the woman has time to watch music shows or cable TV, but he secretly tells her anyway when Taeyong is busy making pleasured noise at his food, and asks her to watch NCT Life later. Kanghee gives him a little scandalous gasp and excited glance at Taeyong, before promising him she will. Jaehyun smiles at her with gratitude, all dimples and teeth, before ordering a batch of cheesecake and oreo cookies for take home.

Kanghee gives them two extras, plus the recipe scribbled on piece of torn paper for Taeyong to keep. The raven beams out his  _ thank you _ and goes as far as giving the elder woman a hug. She laughs joyously and returns the gesture with equal enthusiasm, dashed with colorful sprinkle of mother’s tenderness.

They forgot about taking photos at all, too engrossed in wolfing down the sinfully decadent dessert to care.

They forgot about the wall that they had put between them as well, casually feeding each other and taking sips of the other’s drink. Taeyong blanches at the bitterness of Jaehyun’s coffee, “how could you drink this shit?”

“It keeps me awake. Trust me, I didn’t like it at first but I got used to it.”

“Pretentious,” Taeyong scoffs, staring at the black liquid like it’s incarnation of evil. “You’re like Youngho-hyung;  _ oh I cannot live without coffee _ , and all. Americans.”

Taeyong says the last word mockingly, much to Jaehyun’s amusement. He takes a bite of his cookie, not forgetting to hum in approval at its soft chewiness (he and Taeyong prefers their cookies chewy, not crunchy like Mark and Doyoung). “No, really, how did you survive without caffeine, Hyung?”

“For your information, tea has higher caffeine amount than coffee, and it actually tastes like something. And have you ever heard of energy drink?”

Jaehyun says, “I see,” but it’s probably drowned by another noise of pleasure he makes with his throat at the second bite. The cookie just gets better with every bite.

“Is it that good?” Taeyong inquires, genuinely curious. As expected of cookie monster, Jaehyun thinks.

“Here.”

Jaehyun really wasn’t thinking when he offers the cookie. To Taeyong’s mouth. Really; he  _ was not _ . And he doesn’t realize what he is doing until Taeyong leans forward, opens his mouth and wraps his pink lips around the brown cookie.

There’s a soft crunching noise when Taeyong bites down on the cookie. The crumbs fall, not to the table but Taeyong’s open palm beneath his mouth. Jaehyun’s own mouth falls open while Taeyong is entirely unaware, too focused on trying out the cookie.

He makes a noise of ecstasy that sounds too sinful for Jaehyun’s ears. He cannot think. His minds chorus endless stream of  _ fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck _ .

“Fuck,” Taeyong gasps in awe, eyes open wide and blown.

Jaehyun thinks  _ fuck _ , too, and when Taeyong wraps his hands around Jaehyun’s wrist, pulling it so he can take another bite of the cookie,  _ straight  _ of Jaehyun’s hand, the younger’s mind might have short-circuited for a while. He is gaping, and if Taeyong is not pouring all his attention to the sinful cookie while making the most sinful noise known to mankind himself, he would have caught the flustered expression on Jaehyun’s face.

“This is so good,” Taeyong says, still holding Jaehyun’s hand, then he turns around to where Kanghee is sipping her own coffee while reading a dog-eared paperback. “Kanghee-noona, this is the best cookie I’ve ever ate!”

She smiles at him, raising her cup in salute. Even though he’s not facing him, Jaehyun can tell Taeyong is smiling at her, a little bit love-struck maybe, he’s gullible like that.

Jaehyun takes the chance to school his expression back to normal, he shifts his legs too because  _ something _ is starting down there, and he cannot have that right now. Plus, it’s embarrassing. He got hard just by hearing Taeyong making happy noises at cookies, yeah,  _ totally pathetic. _

“I’m so gonna make this at home, do you think the boys will like it?” Taeyong asks, turning back his attention to Jaehyun who thankfully has retained the semblance of control to his previously dumbstruck expression.

“They will,” he nods, still a little bit short-winded. Taeyong’s fingers are still wrapped around his wrist, he tries so hard not to stare at it in case Taeyong might realize and the moment would be broken again by awkwardness. He prefers this little contact to end naturally, melting away like snow under the sun instead of ice breaking with sickening crack.

“They will eat whatever given to them anyways, growing boys,” he chuckles fondly, face softening at the mention of his bandmates who are mostly younger than him.

Jaehyun feels a pang of hurt. Jealousy for not being able to see that side of his Hyung; Taeyong who cooks and tends to his members’ needs, and sadness for the same reason. He tries to conceal it with his own laugh, “true. Especially Donghyuck, he’d love it.”

“Jisung, too!” Taeyong chirps excitedly. He starts talking animatedly about the younger members and somewhere in between, he lets go of Jaehyun’s hand and cookie for his own fork and pie.

Jaehyun listens to him attentively, occasionally throwing his own question and remarks. He props his chin on his palm, his body leaning forward as not to miss every word that slips out from Taeyong’s lips.

A voice in his head tells him he should be taking pictures of this, to immortalize the all too honest and sincere happiness that Taeyong’s face radiates. Another voice says he should pass the camera this time and celebrate this moment with his body; with his eyes and ears, and lips that would answer to every of Taeyong’s speech.

“-and then Winwin,” Taeyong is in the middle of tale about how Winwin and Taeil unexpected get along.

When there is only flutter of colourful-winged butterflies of his stomach, Jaehyun is surprised. There  _ should _ be snake coiled in his gut, but Taeyong is looking so happy, so carefree, so true and simply  _ Lee Taeyong  _ who used to count the stars with him as they lay down on damp grass by the bank of Han River, fingers tangled and knees knocking.

He is the same boy who used to look at Jaehyun like he’s the one who paints stars in the sky, not the unicorn haired boy who becomes extra attentive and a little bit more protective when it comes to his Chinese bandmate.

This Lee Taeyong in front of Jaehyun is  _ his _ , his and his alone for nobody else to have.

“And here, is your ice cream!” Kanghee announces merrily when Taeyong is telling him about how Doyoung has accidentally maxed out Johnny’s credit card. The tale is quickly forgotten of course at the sight of towering swirl of chocolate topped with colorful pastel sprinkles.

“This?” Taeyong asks, eyes flicking back and forth between Jaehyun and his treat.

“Yours, for winning,” Jaehyun pushes the glass closer to Taeyong. “Eat up, Hyung.”

Taeyong is sun. Taeyong is moon. Taeyong is the constellation that keeps Jaehyun’s darkness glittering abright. But for that moment, for that one moment when Taeyong smiles at him that his entire being lit up, Jaehyun wonders if Taeyong is none of the above but the light himself.

:::

It’s close to five when they find themselves in front of Jaehyun’s door. Time passes quickly, like life passing right in front of you. Jaehyun thinks of the three years they spent apart and how little the time they have to make up for it in comparison. It doesn’t even amount to 24 hours.

The sun is going down behind them. Their shadows grow longer. They stand side by side in front of the door, just staring at the solid wood without making a sound, safe for their soft breathing.

Nobody moves. None of them seems willing to open the door because they know the moment they step inside, they’re getting closer to the finish line. Jaehyun finds a little bit consolation in realizing he’s not the only one who dreads their once again separation, even if it might not be for the same reason.

He closes his eyes and can still see Taeyong, in that park; cheeks flushed and eyes opened wide. He was looking at him and they were looking at each other even if there was lens between them. Words were coded in an alien language none of them quite understand but can decipher, and they were spoken not with their mouths forever mute, but by eyes that deny none of themselves.

Once again, there is distance between them. It’s less than thirty but more than ten. It no longer holds twelve seasons but only down to one. Of one winter that still persists because this is about Taeyong and mending their friendship, but Jaehyun is not sure if  _ friendship _ is what he wants from the elder boy.

“Hyung.”

And there are still too many things between them, all of them represented by this frustrating distance. If Jaehyun wants to close the gap, he has to make up his mind. The problem is he cannot. Because he fears and he is scared; of too many things, of rejection, of hurting Taeyong again and be hurt in return.

_ Plus, it doesn't have to be now _ , he thinks. They can meet again, another day, another time for another talk. He could just call it today and they will part with the sweet taste of ice cream and chocolates lingered in their mouths instead of ugly bitterness of truth.

“Yes, Jaehyunnie?”

Taeyong doesn’t have to hear about why he actually created a fansite which eventually boils down to why Jaehyun never tried to contact him or any other trainees for that matter as if their friendship built upon tears and sweats never existed.

Taeyong didn’t even ask, right? He only asked Jaehyun to tell him about how he’s been doing, he didn’t demand for explanation behind his disappearance and sudden comeback with camera in his hands.

They can just pretend the glaring, obvious issue was never there at all and they can retain the friendship they thought they had lost just fine. They can go on with their lives, an idol and college student slash fansite master, unbothered.

The tightness in his stomach laughs mockingly at his obvious lie. He is  _ bothered _ . He's been holding this for too long and Jaehyun is not normally a man of restrain.  _ Yoonoh _ is. Once Jaheyun gets his eyes set on his goal, he will do whatever it means to achieve it. It had brought him to destruction once, and even if he was burnt, maybe he doesn’t really fear.

Taeyong is the fire, bright orange and licking, reaching out to him. Jaehyun is drawn.

He doesn’t want anyone to hurt but if there was any; it should be him. He looks then, to his fire that radiates intoxicating warm. He is taller so Taeyong is slightly tilting his head upwards, meeting him with curious eyes.

“Would you stay tonight?”

The sun sinks lower behind them; the light it casts is even.  _ Golden hour is close by _ , Jaehyun thinks. And just like it’s the best time to photograph, maybe it’s the best time for confession.

“Sure.”

Jaehyun takes Taeyong’s hand in his. The elder doesn’t complain, nor does he make any comment about it. Jaehyun unlocks the door with one hand. He should be used to it already, it is not easy.

He should understand Taeyong already, it’s still not easy.

:::

Jaehyun orders chicken and beer while Taeyong takes shower. He waits until his Hyung is done by transferring the photos they took today to his PC. He said something about teaching Taeyong editing, he is not sure if they can do any tonight, but he’s doing it anyways.

Taeyong has spare t-shirt and underwear with him, something he always keeps in case of emergency. But he didn’t bring any shorts, so Jaehyun lends him one of his; black with two white stripes on the side. He doesn’t think he can handle seeing Taeyong in  _ his _ shirt, fresh out of  _ his _ shower.

He  _ cannot _ .

The file transfer window closes itself, signaling that all photos have been transferred safely to his laptop. Jaehyun works methodically rolling his cable, switching off his camera, then carefully puts them inside the bag. He starts loading the photoshop while checking the photos they had taken today.

Jaehyun doesn’t count but there are probably hundreds of them. He purposely skips photos of him that Taeyong took at the park because he doesn’t want to see what Taeyong  _ saw _ and made him had such expression, but he pauses at one picture of Taeyong he took after.

If he zooms in, will he be able to read what those eyes are trying to say? If he zooms in close enough, will he be able to see himself reflected in those pair of glassy eyes?

“Jaehyunnie?”

Startled, Jaehyun turns around abruptly. His breath is caught in his throat at the sight before him; Taeyong in plain grey t-shirt, black hair damp and plastered to his skin, cheeks pink from hot shower, towel around his shoulder, and hands clutching on the band of  _ Jaehyun’s _ shorts.

“Umm,” Taeyong ducks his head down, shifting his weight from one leg to another. “It’s just, your shorts, it’s quite big…”

“…Yes?”

“Do you, well, do you have anything,” Taeyong flits a shy glance to him, “smaller? Or with draw-string?”

“ _ Oh _ ,” Jaehyun’s eyes automatically darts to Taeyong’s hips where his knuckle is making desperate attempt to keep the shorts from falling off. The same traitorous eyes try to venture further down, but his rationale tuts in disapproval, Jaehyun immediately looks up again to find Taeyong is back to avoiding his gaze. “Yeah. Sorry. Sure, I have one. Wait a minute.”

He leaves his chair for his wardrobe. After some rummaging here and there, he eventually finds one with draw-string, same size but at least it gets something that can keep the shorts in its position. He hands the garment to Taeyong who accepts it with grateful nod.

The smaller man enters the bathroom once again, only to pop out a little while later to ask Jaehyun if it’s okay to use his hair-dryer which Jaehyun affirms to. When he comes out again, his hair is all dry, skin not as pink as before but still slightly flushed, and he no longer minds about his shorts slipping off from his hip.

“It’s your turn now,” he says, jerking his head toward the bathroom.

“I just transferred all the photos today, you might want to see. Or if you wanna watch youtube or anything, use my laptop, it’s fine. You know where the drinks are, right?”

As if to make his point, Taeyong opens the fridge and takes out a bottle of pocari (the one Jaehyun bought this morning), grinning smugly at Jaehyun, “Okay, Jaehyunnie. You can go and have your shower in peace, Hyung won’t ruin your house.”

“Oh, trust me, you’re the last person to ruin this house. Anyway, the delivery should arrive in ten minutes or so, I’ll be done until then.”

Taeyong takes his phone before plopping down on the chair that Jaehyun previously occupied while the brunette is checking his wallet, “I can really use your laptop for  _ anything _ ? Even looking at your fansite photos?”

Jaehyun tries to remember if he’s making the payment by cash or card. He cannot remember. In the end, he settles with pulling out both of them and puts them on the kitchen counter. “Anything for you, Hyung.”

He said it with a grin, maybe a hint of playfulness, but there is too much truth and less friskiness in it.

If only Taeyong knew.

:::

With some miracle, Jaehyun manages to finish his shower ‘in peace’. Despite the tightness that coiled in his stomach, the building tension, and the thought of Taeyong (standing naked under  _ his  _ shower, using  _ his  _ soap and shampoo, and wearing  _ his _ shorts), he kept his hands away from his member.

He thanks the law of biology, the wonder low temperature can do to your body, and maybe Lord in Heaven, that by the time he emerges from the bathroom, his erection has calmed down into nothingness.

He still wears the baggiest track pants he owns, just in case.

Taeyong is perched by the edge of his chair, looking intently on the screen that glows and casts whitish blue light on his handsome face. His eyes look even more unreal now with how they’re reflecting the light from the LCD screen, he wonders if human’s eyes are naturally that reflective or it’s just Taeyong’s.

“What are you looking at?” Jaehyun asks.

Taeyong doesn’t look at him when he replies, “these photos, they were taken during NCT U’s promotion, right?”

He walks until he’s standing behind Taeyong, looking at the picture in question. _May 13th_ _Friday,_ Jaehyun remembers the exact date by heart, not by the label of the folder but by the white-striped blue shirt that Taeyong wore.

His hair had been white at the time, very light shade of lilac to be exact, and his features were still sharp and cold. His large eyes making him look incredibly unreal. “Inhuman,” he remembers Chaerin said, breathless.

Jaehyun had been breathing, but he remembers thinking that Taeyong is human for he had touched him and felt the pulse that drummed beneath that soft skin, had drunk in the intoxicating heat his small body radiated.

“You haven’t released this,” Taeyong murmurs, still commenting on the same photo. In that picture, Taeyong was looking down, his white bangs falling all over his eyes. They create beautiful contrast with his black lashes, and Jaehyun had liked it very much.

It’s art in its purest form. Too captivated, Jaehyun had zoomed his lens until he had full frame filled with Taeyong’s face, leaving only some space empty. He managed to capture all of his facial details, including the bumps and unevenness of his skin.

It’s beautiful. It’s intimate. He wonders if Taeyong finds it creepy that there’s someone who went this far just to worship his face even though he should know that it comes with the job.

“I don’t want to,” Jaehyun’s eyes are locked on the screen. Taeyong’s eyes are no longer there.

“Why?”

Jaehyun stares at Taeyong on the screen, at the dent his scar created under his eyes. At the dark shadow his hair and lashes cast on blueish skin. He sees his finger pressing on the same spot, young boys with eyes bejeweled, passing murmurs of dream in the dark of the room.

He hears someone say,  _ “don’t cry _ ,” and it sounds pretty much like his own voice. Someone was sniffing. Taeyong, fingers curling tightly around Jaehyun’s wrist and skin, his name slipping out from his lips.

“It’s,” he tears his gaze away from the photo for the actual person. Taeyong is looking up at him, questions drawn on his beautiful face. Photo really doesn’t do him justice.

“Jaehyunnie?”  _ why, why, why, why _ -

“...mi-”

_ ding dong! _

Another moment broken. Another spell cast off. Taeyong jumps on his seat, obviously startled. Like small animal.  _ Cute _ . Jaehyun jerks his head towards the door. “Our dinner.”

“Okay,” Taeyong says.  _ For what _ ? He isn’t sure. They do not mind. Jaehyun takes both the cash and card he has prepared earlier before answering the delivery man.

He pays with cash because apparently, that’s how he had asked the payment to be. He tips the guy extra, then closes the door behind him. Jaehyun raises the plastic bag, jiggles it for extra effect, “you think you can finish this all?”

“Probably not tonight,” Taeyong grins, all trace of previous tension gone.

They are not bothering with making the table and eats straight from the container instead. Jaehyun pops open one can of beer and offers one to Taeyong. He declines politely, raising his pocari instead.

Jaehyun laughs then downs almost half of his beer, the liquid burns his throat. He catches Taeyong grimacing at him. “It’s just, what, six?”

“Close to seven, actually.” He lies, it’s just twenty three past six, it’s not exactly closer to seven. Nobody bothers with the clock anyways, and Taeyong is giving him half-mortified, half-curious look.

“I didn’t take you to be a heavy drinker.”

“I’m not really one either,” he comments nonchalantly, picking up a chicken drumstick before devouring it with gusto. He’s not really hungry, they just had a full-course meal and dessert with too many cookies, he supposes he’s just nervous and he finds comfort in his food, as always. “Maybe, I just feel like it today.”

“Why?”

That question again, Jaehyun purposely ignores Taeyong’s face. The mountain of chickens is offering solace to his aimless eyes. “Well, celebration?” he tries, licking some crumbs off from his fingers.

Taeyong makes a noise of distaste. “Gross,” he tuts. “Celebrate what?”

Jaehyun picks up his can of beer again, swinging it toward Taeyong’s direction. “You. This,” he circles the can above the table, “our reunion. I just think it’s worth celebrating.”

“I guess so,” Taeyong is on his second chicken. Jaehyun is on forth. The latter takes a quick sip of his beer, Taeyong eyes him warily. “Just don’t, don’t get overboard…”

“With this?” Jaehyun tips the half-empty can toward him.

“Yeah. I don’t want you to spend the rest of our day inebriated, I mean,” Taeyong pauses. Breathes in. Breathes out. Jaehyun counts the number of crumbs around the corner of his lips, fingers itching to wipe them away. “I don’t-“

“Hyung.”

Taeyong falters to a stop eventually, his eyes searching for Jaehyun’s. The younger boy avoids him still. He sighs, annoyed. “We don’t have that much time, Jaehyunnie. I prefer you sober. We don’t have all the time in the world.”

Jaehyun finishes his drink in one long, noisy swig. He’s riling Taeyong up with his behavior. He knows. He’s acting like a brat. He knows. Taeyong doesn’t like it.  _ He fucking knows _ .

He just doesn’t know why he’s suddenly acting like this.

Maybe it’s because Taeyong is suddenly bringing this topic, maybe because Taeyong is mentioning about the lack of time they have. Maybe it’s the unfairness of the whole situation that they have been separated for three  _ fucking _ years yet the time they have is not even close to half of it.

Maybe because he is  _ Jaehyun  _ not  _ Yoonoh _ , and Jaehyun has never been good at being patient while Yoonoh is god-damn expert at it.

And suddenly he’s angry; at Taeyong, at  _ Yoonoh _ , at himself. At how  _ fucking  _ coward he had been. At how easily Taeyong had managed to orchestrate their meeting while Jaehyun nearly got a panic attack when he was about to reveal himself to the other boy.

Maybe it’s alcohol in his bloodstream. It’s only one can, but maybe Jaehyun’s already intoxicated. He’s not exactly a heavy drinker; he’s not light-weight either. It could be the combination of the cheap liquor and his pent-up frustrations, and Taeyong is so  _ fucking  _ beautiful like that with his irritation radiating from under his heat-flushed skin.

Jaehyun reaches for another can and Taeyong stops him. Their eyes used to meet in melancholic conversation. Now, Jaehyun can only hear admonishment.

“No.”

“Taeyongie-hyung.”

“Don’t,” Taeyong hisses hotly. “ _ Taeyongie-hyung _ , me. What is wrong with you, Jaehyun? Why are you-“

“-avoiding me?” Jaehyun chuckles mockingly. He rolls his eyes, tips his head back and cocks it slightly aside.

Taeyong can feel the sudden shift of his mood. He  _ knew _ ; they both always knew each other better than they know themselves.

“Do you really want to have this conversation here, with chickens between us?”

“I-“

“Later, Hyung,” Jaehyun pleads even though his tone doesn’t sound anything like it. But it’s okay, he knows, Taeyong must understand. They have unraveled each other before, they have seen the best and the worst of each other, so Taeyong ought to understand.

Except there were three years separating them and maybe the  _ worst _ of fifteen years old Jaehyun was not his actual ‘ _ worst _ ’ at all even though his  _ best _ was. He thought Taeyong had seen all of him like he had seen all of Taeyong. But there were three years of winter everlast in Jaehyun’s heart, and just as long were the times they spent apart from each other.

There is no guarantee that both of them had stayed the same. Jaehyun had changed, that’s for sure, which opens the possibility that Taeyong too, had changed. Taeyong couldn’t have known about the ‘new’ Jaehyun; the Jaehyun who rarely meant the smile he used to charm people around him. Taeyong couldn’t have known about the empty carcass of human’s skeleton called  _ Jeong Yoonoh  _ who finds apathy easier to do than sympathy.

Taeyong doesn’t know him.

The realization makes him feel sick. It calls his fear back and they crawl from the tip of his toes with their clammy fingers, leaving uncomfortable wetness on his sweaty skin.  _ No _ , _ he must not fuck this up _ . Jaehyun breathes in harshly;  _ this is not about him and his- this about- _

The phantom pain is back on his left leg,  _ He fucked  _ up, his first royal fuck up. Jaehyun feels his breath going erratic. Taeyong’s hand on his burns hotly, stinging his skin. Taeyong. Lee Taeyong who doesn’t know him, and  _ fuck _ , if even Taeyong doesn’t know  _ him _ , then how is Jaehyun supposed to know himself?

He has given up his heart all those years ago, for Taeyong. For his hyung whom he promised to stay with forever. For the boy with all-too large eyes who had bought his bald-faced lie and hung around with him after practice.

For Taeyong; whom he loves with the sureness of rising sun and the fatality of its dawn.  It tears him apart, from skin to flesh, then bones, and to the smallest atomic particle that made him up and brought him to existence. Because Taeyong  _ doesn’t know him anymore _ , not after Jaehyun broke his promise and left him without as much as farewell.

And it scares him; it makes him feel more hollow than ever. It feels worse than when he’s trapped in the winter of his heart, when he could feel nothing but cold apathy toward anything that was not related to his goal. When he was  _ Jeong Yoonoh _ with mechanical smile and programmed words.

When he was  _ Yoonoh _ , he always thought meeting Taeyong will make him rediscover himself. He thought he did when he heard  _ ‘Without You’ _ for the first time, but turned out he didn’t, because the ice never really break until he met Taeyong again in that fansign.

Taeyong always knew him better than anyone else, more than himself and his parents. It’s Taeyong who lit up the candle inside him, it’s Taeyong who made him realize that life is not all about competition and being better than anyone else like he had been taught.

Taeyong gave him purpose, an identity that didn’t make him a doll built upon his father’s old idealism. So when they parted, Jaehyun lost  _ himself _ .

And if Taeyong lost _ him _ too now, then how-

“Jaehyunnie,” Taeyong speaks; soft, low. Taeyong calls for him. Taeyong’s hand is around his wrist. Taeyong’s eyes are on him; asking, searching, begging;  _ please, please, please- _

_ -why _ , there is no ‘ _ why _ ’s. Just ‘ _ please _ ’, and the pain in Jaehyun’s leg slowly dissipates back into the dingy corner of his mind. The ache was never there, just product of his nightmare. “Hyung, I-“

Taeyong gets up without letting go of Jaehyun’s hand. He circles the table until he kneels down beside his dongsaeng. Gently, he pries the cold can away from Jaehyun’s fingers and have them hold his hand instead, squeezing tight. “It’s alright. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-“

“ _ Hyung _ -“

“Ssh, let me finish,” Taeyong berates him but it’s lacking the heat. He doesn’t mean it at all.

Jaehyun wants to curl into his chest and cry. He feels like a mess. Like a wreck. He blames it on the alcohol. He pretends it’s the alcohol.

“I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m just surprised that you drink so well. It’s the same with photography, it’s just…weird. Suddenly I feel like I don’t know you at all.”

Jaehyun squeezes back as tight, slightly pulling Taeyong toward him. He shakes his head vehemently, “No, hyung. It’s-“

“-silly, right?  I shouldn’t be annoyed by this kind of thing. Maybe I’m scared, but when I think about it again, of course I  _ don’t’ know you _ -“

At this rate, Jaehyun doesn’t care anymore; he  _ doesn’t want to hear it _ . He pulls Taeyong until he got his laps full of the elder boy. He quickly wraps one hand around his torso and presses their body together; he buries his head in the crook of Taeyong’s neck.

Taeyong gasps in surprise, but he doesn’t protests. Instead, he leans further into Jaehyun’s heat, nuzzling his head on the younger’s neck. Jaehyun shivers from the contact. “Let me finish,” his whisper sears his skin, like his touch.

Jaehyun doesn’t want to hear those ‘words’ coming out from Taeyong’s mouth at all.  But Taeyong smells like  _ him _ ; his soap and shampoo, and Jaehyun is dizzy. The combination of his own scent enveloping Taeyong and alcohol in his blood disables him from thinking straight. He ends up grunting out his affirmation.

“-of course I don’t know you because we have been apart for so long, three years? And of course you have changed. I did too;  I’m no longer the same even if I wish I am.”

Jaehyun hugs him tighter, shaking his head as if denying something. Taeyong pats his back gently and Jaehyun lets out a frustrated groan. He doesn’t want to hear  _ this _ .

“And you’re right; this isn’t something I want to talk over chicken and beer. I- this is why I decided to come today, Jaehyunnie. I want, I  _ need _ to talk to you about  _ this _ .”

“What is ‘ _ this’ _ ?” Jaehyun croaks out, he sounds so small even for himself.

Taeyong doesn’t answer immediately; Jaehyun can feel his hesitation thrumming under his skin.  _ Inhale. Exhale _ . Then, “this;  _ us _ . Why did you leave, why didn’t I contact you. Why did I write about you…why did you become my fansite master…”

“…you knew,” Jaehyun sighs. It’s Taeyong’s turn to shiver now.

“You weren’t telling me the truth.”

“I don’t think I really explained it to you,” the brunette admits.

“True,” Taeyong says.

They’re quiet for a while, two bodies pressed together and fingers that desperately clung on each other. The chicken watches them forlornly from the table. Jaehyun’s can of beer silently staring. “…I don’t feel like eating anymore.”

“Neither do I,” Taeyong makes attempt to pull away but Jaehyun doesn’t let him. He tries another approach by offering, “lie down with me?”

Jaehyun contemplates for a while. He doesn’t want to let Taeyong go, he doesn’t want to face the conversation that he knows will happen either. But Taeyong wants him to, and whatever Taeyong wants, Jaheyun can only give.

“Jaehyunnie?”

Eventually, Jaehyun relents, “okay.”

He still doesn’t let go.

:::

They lie side by side on Jaehyun’s bed. The chickens have been stored away in Tupperware container, beer stashed in the back of fridge. The room should smell like chickens, but Jaehyun can only smell the scent of his shampoo drifting from Taeyong’s hair.

They lie side by side, shoulders aligned but Jaehyun’s knees are slightly in lower position than Taeyong because he is taller now. He was shorter three years ago when they used to spend their time after practice counting the stars. This reminds Jaehyun of back then when they’re cushioned by damp grass instead of detergent-scented bed.

This reminds Jaehyun of so many things like the sparkle of Taeyong’s eyes that was brighter than the celestial rocks they’re counting.

“So,” Taeyong starts. Jaehyun doesn’t want to. He wants to stop - time,  _ everything _ .

He wants to stop Taeyong from leaving. He wants to stop Taeyong from talking but when it comes to Taeyong, Jaehyun is powerless. Always.

“Where should we start?”

“I don’t know,” Jaehyun answers honestly. He is not looking at Taeyong, Taeyong is not looking at him either. They’re staring up at the ceiling as if the navy concrete has all the answers they’re looking for.

They probably already have the answers they are looking for. They’re just afraid to acknowledge them. Coward. Both of them. So alike. Both of them.

Is it  _ fate _ ? Jaehyun hopes it is.

“There are, like, a  _ lot _ ,” Taeyong makes a gesture with his hands.

Jaehyun’s eyes follow the movement, mapping the soft skin wrapped around flesh and bones. His gaze lands on Taeyong’s fingers. He imagines holding them. He remembers he was holding them once when they were young and carefree, and they laughed about mistaking a dance sequence instead of crying over it.

Is Taeyong still laughing at it? Or is he pulling his hair in frustration? Jaehyun doesn’t know, he is no longer the one living the same life with him. It’s Winwin. It’s Yuta. It’s Taeil, Mark, Hansol, and Haechan. Not Jaehyun.

It used to be Jaehyun but not anymore. His chest constricts painfully. His left leg aches, it reminds Jaehyun of cold floor and  _ ‘are you alright?’ _ s, then there was Taeyong, crying broken gemstones in place of tears.

Hospital room. Jaehyun couldn’t catch them. No; he  _ chose  _ not to.

“I wish,” Jaehyun mumbles, still fixated on Taeyong’s raised hands. “I kept a diary.”

“Why?” the elder’s voice is just as quiet. His hands still in the air, Jaehyun itches to raise his own hand and tangled their fingers together.

“I would have poured everything that went through my mind. You can read them, I don’t have to explain it to you. I don’t have to think where to start either,” he says, “it’s easier.”

Taeyong finally lowers his hand, the right one falls on Jaehyun’s knee. The brunette shivers, he tells himself it’s not intentional but when Taeyong shifts closer to him, angling his head to the side, he knows it  _ is _ . “That’s convenient.”

“That’s just me being a coward,” he blurts out. The navy blue ceiling stares back at him. Taeyong’s hands are not there anymore, one is on top of his knee - his  _ left _ knee to be exact. It throbs painfully from a tear that should not be there anymore. “I didn’t- I haven’t told you anything.”

“You did. You just haven’t told me  _ everything _ ,” Taeyong corrects him.

Jaehyun swallows, he closes his eyes. Then when he opens them, he lets them find Taeyong’s enigmatic black eyes locked on him. There is no pressure there, just gentle plea and permission to enter. Would Jaehyun let him? Would Jaehyun let the chance he’s been longing for go to waste?

It’s now or never. It’s a stand still. It’s moving on or backing down. It’s Taeyong and their broken friendship.

“It’s me. It all started with me.”

“How so?” Taeyong asks quietly, but with the lack of distance between them, Jaehyun doesn’t have to strain his ears to catch them.

“I didn’t befriend you for you. I befriended you for myself, for my stupid, childish ego. You know what they say about  _ ‘keep your friend close, and enemy close- _ ”

“I know,” Taeyong actually grins and this close, it’s blinding. It distracts Jaehyun from their conversation and what Taeyong’s admittance means.

“You do?”

Taeyong nods. His bangs fall aside, revealing a little of his forehead. “Yeah. You’re one competitive brat, of course I knew. Even Youngho-hyung knew. Does it matter anyway, we ended up as the best of friends, right?”

As if to emphasize his declaration, Taeyong squeezes his knee. Gently, because apparently Taeyong still remembers which part of Jaehyun’s body that hurts. He probably knows it’s not the part that hurts the most, but right now, he has no way to console that one.

“Even then, I like you, Jaehyunnie,” Taeyong continues “You might not approached me with best intention in mind, you might not like me, but you’re better than those people who said shits behind me. You said you’re a coward, but I think you’re brave. You had the courage even if it’s to do something ‘coward’.”

Of course Taeyong would think like that, his Hyung is too kind of a person to see anyone else but him as any less. It’s the weird way Taeyong’s mind work, he always sees the good in other people even if when there’s none and can only see the bad in him.

It makes him kind. It makes him pitiable. It makes Jaehyun want to recite all good traits that Taeyong refuses to see every single day and every single time.

It makes Jaehyun’s love for him all the more irrevocable. Never before he, someone who favors his ego more than anything, met someone as selfless as Lee Taeyong.

“And like I said, we got along in the end, right? No matter what your motive was, I’m thankful that you approached me that day, Jaehyunnie. If it wasn’t for you, I don’t think I can be who I am now. You inspire me a lot, so much more than you think you did. Everybody knows that, Youngho-hyung, Hansol-hyung. Even Mark.”

“Even Mark?”

“Everyone who was there when you’re still with us knew,” Taeyong nods. There is no ounce of hesitation in his voice. He holds his gaze steady, full with belief, “that without Jeong Jaehyun, there will be no ‘Lee Taeyong’. They knew if it wasn’t for you, I would have never opened myself like I’m doing right now. They knew how much you mean to me, Jaehyunnie. They always do.”

Jaehyun stares back, at those pair of eyes that have always been honest whenever it comes to him. Jaehyun cannot remember the last time Taeyong puts his guard up around him. Then again, it’s because Taeyong has never done it in the first place. For Jaehyun, Taeyong is a gate opening wide, accepting and welcoming.    

It shows how much Taeyong trusts him. It shows how much he  _ means _ to Taeyong.

Jaehyun just cannot shake the feeling that he doesn’t deserve all this loyalty. He has done nothing but hurt him. He has done nothing but leave Taeyong alone. He has done nothing to warrant Taeyong’s devotion. He-

“Even if I didn’t mean that much to yo-”

“NO!” Jaehyun bridles.

In his frustration, he jerks upward. Taeyong’s palm on his knee stills, the elder looks up to him with astonishment. Jaehyun leans over until he casts shadow over Taeyong’s face. Those eyes are wide, not with fear, just surprise. Never fear.

Taeyong never fears him because he knows Jaehyun can never do him harm.

How wrong. How naive. How trusting and gullible Taeyong is when it comes to him. Why can’t he see how much Jaehyun has been hurting him? Why can’t he see how Jaehyun deserves none of his dedication?

Why can’t he see how much he means to Jaehyun?

Why is Taeyong so blind when it comes to him?

Why are they so blind when it comes to each other?

_ Why _ -

“Tell me,” gently, Jaehyun palms Taeyong’s hand on his knee. He holds it there, not lacing their fingers together, but the urge is there. It depends on Taeyong’s answer. “That song,  _ Without You _ , is it-”

“Maybe I’ve been waiting for someone like you,” the raven says, a small smile creeping to his beautiful,  _ beautiful _ face.

It’s the same face and the same voice, but they’re different. Now, they’re older, now the face has been splashed with paint called jadedness, now the voice has grown deep with age. Still, it’s Taeyong, with his eyes uncharted galaxy and his hand slowly shifting to clasp Jaehyun’s in his.

Jaehyun cannot breath. The air is stuck in his lungs. His head is somewhere far away, far behind. They’re not lying on his bed; they’re on the damp grass by the river. They were so much younger, they weren’t looking at each other yet the small contact of their linked hands spoke enough volume for what they could have found on each other’s eyes.

But now, Taeyong is looking at him. Trusting. Sure, not afraid. Brave, not cautious. The words that left his lips weren’t exactly the lyrics of the song in question, it’s the very same words he had told Jaehyun those many years ago and had found a place in between his lyrics.

Taeyong pulls their joined hands until they rest on top of his chest, smile wobbling at the edge.  Unconsciously, Jaehyun tightens his hold.

“The one who offered his hand and pulled me out from where I kept myself, the one who took my hand and showed me the world I refused to see, the one who gave me warmth when all I could feel was the coldness of my solitude. That one person, Jaehyunnie, there has been no one else. There has always been one and it never changed...”

Who? Who is that lucky person?

Who is that person who makes the sun rises in Taeyong’s world of endless night? Who is that person who waited for Taeyong and stays by his side? Who is that lucky person who gives Taeyong a shoulder to cry on when everything becomes hard for him?

Who is that lucky person who Taeyong talks of so fondly with yearning and misery? Who is that person who has given Taeyong so much love yet decided to walk away so irresponsibly, leaving Taeyong with nothing but heart as lonely as before he was found and longing that runs too deep like toxic in his blood?

“I’m with you,” Taeyong says.

Jaehyun knows those words. It’s the name of the fansite account he is running. It’s the name he’s hiding behind as he runs here and there chasing after the person he has given up his heart for. It’s the words he had told Taeyong in pathetic attempt to console him after that trainwreck of scandal hit him.

They are three words that Jaehyun has uttered in place of his ‘ _ I’m sorry’ _ .

He should have said it, back then in hospital room, back then before he decided to leave the agency because he cannot keep his promise to Taeyong. A promise of forever. A promise of ever. A promise they exchanged when they were still young and hopeful, before reality decided to come crashing in and entrap Jaehyun in a world of everlasting winter.

They are three words that Jaehyun conveniently used because he didn’t have the courage to say the other three words that really matter.

It’s him.

It’s Jaehyun and his selfish, cowardice-self that caused all of this. It all started with him and his foolish pride.

It’s him and his mindless determination to win that stopped him from taking care of himself.

It’s him and his stubborn ego that drove himself to destruction.

It’s him; that  _ lucky person. _

It all started with him.

All this mess, all this ruin and wreckage happened because of him; because he approached Taeyong with insincere effort of friendship. It’s  _ karma _ , this is God’s way of punishing his impure thought.

But thinking back, it really wasn’t where everything went wrong. Everything rolled downhill since Jaehyun started seeing Taeyong in his dream. Everything went where it shouldn’t be since Jaehyun started seeing Taeyong in the new light.

Everything started falling apart since Jaehyun fell in-

“It’s you and I believe in you. Even if we’re apart, if I close my eyes, it’s always the same person. It’s you Jaehyun. I can’t-”

Jaehyun kisses him.

:::

Ask the navy blue wall, ask the mute swiveling chair, ask the desk littered with food crumbs, ask the glowing laptop screen.

Ask the immobile, locked door. It cannot answer. None of them can provide answer. They can only watch with pitying gaze at the two bodies on equally unspeaking bed.

“Jaehyun,” Taeyong gasps, digging his nails on Jaehyun’s bare shoulder.

The boy in question has divested him off from any clothes, including his own shorts. Taeyong is naked on the bed, beneath Jaehyun’s hot, scalding body that’s almost as nude as he is, safe for the pants that’s still clinging on his hips.

Jaehyun is suckling on his right nipple, the other hand fondling Taeyong’s weeping erection. The raven keens when Jaehyun gives one particular hard suck. His stomach grows taut, coupled with Jaehyun’s ministration down there, he feels himself coming near.

Taeyong tries to pry Jaehyun away from attacking his chest to no avail. He fists Jaehyun’s hair in desperate attempt, tugging at the bottom where he knows it’ll hurt. He succeeds this time when Jaehyun jerks back with breathy swear. Taeyong sighs in triumph but even then it’s short-lived because Jaehyun suddenly increases the speed of his hand.

“Fuck,” he tosses his head back, exposing the long column of his neck for Jaehyun to devour, which the younger does eagerly, lapping on the salty skin with desperate fervor. “Fuck, Jaehyunnie, I’m- so close, I’m- don’t stop.”

Jaehyun complies with a humm. His hand continues working to bring Taeyong to completion, and with a sharp jerk, and sharp sting on Taeyong’s skin when Jaehyun bites down on him, the raven comes, spilling his load all over Jaehyun’s palm.

If you ask the bed sheet, now tainted with warm, sticky liquid, it wouldn’t know either how did things ended up this way.

Correction.

They probably knew  _ how _ , they just do not know  _ why _ .

Again with the ‘ _ why’ _ . Why are things always ending up this way? Why can’t they just be honest?

Taeyong’s half-lidded eyes that’s directed at him is also asking the same thing.

_ Why can’t I? _ Jaehyun questions himself, dazed. Taeyong is warm and sated beneath him, his breathing is slowing down as he comes down from his high. His lips are red from Jaehyun’s abuse and there are purples blooming here and there where Jaehyun had marked him.

“Jaehyunnie?” Taeyong cocks his head aside.

That one word of his name loads so many questions. Jaehyun should have answered them already. They should be talking about their feelings. Find where it went wrong, pick up the parts that had fallen and fix it.

They shouldn’t be indulging themselves in mindless sex like this. Jaehyun should have given Taeyong his explanation, not escape and distract.

Jaehyun leans back until Taeyong’s hands are barely clinging on his shoulder. His knees are straddling Taeyong’s hips. Their sweaty skin meet, even slicker now with Taeyong’s cum between them.

They’re this close, this intimate. It’s overwhelming. Jaehyun feels dizzy with ecstasy. He’s supposed to, but there’s also crushing weight of guilt that’s blocking his windpipe.

“Why am I like this?” Jaehyun croaks out, smiling bitterly. He trails a shaking hand down Taeyong’s hair to his face. He’s afraid he will break him. He has touched Taeyong where he didn’t thought he could. Taeyong had let him.

Jaehyun wonders if he had broken him.

“Why can’t I just say it like you, Hyung? Why can’t I be honest? Why is it that the only thing I can do is hurt you-”

Taeyong frowns, “you are not-”

And there is so much sadness in that voice. Jaehyun feels yet another part of him dies in shame. “See? Why can’t I stop hurting you?”

Just like Taeyong’s voice is holding sadness in it, Jaehyun’s has so much frustration. He hates himself who, despite his strong feeling for Taeyong, cannot seem to actualize it with his words and actions.

Everything he did was wrong. They all hurt Taeyong one way or another. Like this, Taeyong’s tanned body trapped under him, bearing marks that Jaehyun left with no ounce of consideration how they’d look later. What if Taeyong’s roommate sees? What if the management sees?

The one who bears the burden will be Taeyong. Only Taeyong.

Why is he- why?  _ Why? _

“What are you thinking?” Taeyong asks again. His fingers curling loosely around Jaehyun’s nape.

“I’m thinking;  _ why? _ ”

“Why what?” the elder leans to his palm. Jaehyun swallows, trying to clear the rock from his throat. He failed. He doesn’t sound like himself when he answers; too small, too scared.

“Just,  _ why? _ Why must things be like this? Why do I- why are we-”

“We want each other.” Taeyong answers for him. Bluntly. No hesitation, no doubt. Nothing. Just sureness and clarity.

Jaehyun closes his eyes with shuddering breath. Taeyong is so honest with him, and Jaehyun? Jaehyun is still the same spineless coward who didn’t properly say his goodbye when he left the boys who had shared the same dream that he had. He is still not deserving of Taeyong’s sincerity.

“I told you, Jaehyun, it’s  _ you _ .”

Jaehyun shakes his head at the confession. He can’t. It cannot be him. It  _ should not  _ be him. He left Taeyong. He hurt him. He broke their promise. He didn’t deserve this thing that he has always been dying to have.

“Why are you so hellbent on denying it?” Anguish and frustration colors Taeyong’s figure. It’s the paint Jaehyun has dyed him with.

This is exactly why he thinks he’s not worth it. “I’m not right, Hyung. I hurt you too much. I mean, I’m using you right now.”

“You’re not using me if I want you to,” Taeyong holds his ground stubbornly. Jaehyun doesn’t know whether he should laugh or cry.

He’s  _ loved _ this much. He doesn’t think he has to right to be.

But he  _ wants _ to.

“I haven’t even told you  _ everything _ ,” he brings up the notion again, just to prove Taeyong why he is not worthy of his hyung’s affection. He is a liar. He is not capable of doing a task as simple as admitting his feeling.

“Maybe I don’t want you to tell me  _ everything _ ,” Taeyong retaliates.

Jaehyun feels like yanking his hair off in irritation. His hyung is just as headstrong as he is when it comes to their feelings; they’re both blind and unseeing when it comes to each other. They refuse to see other than what they want themselves to see.

In Jaehyun’s head, Taeyong can do no wrong. Taeyong is not perfect, no; Taeyong has his flaws like any other human being and that’s what makes him even much more precious in Jaehyun’s heart. Taeyong never tries to be flawless like Jaehyun is, Taeyong accepts that in so many where he is lacking, there are some that he can improve and some he cannot. He works hard for the former and never grudges the latter.

Lacking in something doesn’t mean you are wrong, just like being different isn’t. Taeyong can fail, make mistakes. Yet, it will never make him look  _ wrong _ in Jaehyun’s eyes.

Jaehyun is the exact opposite. He  _ cannot _ fail, he  _ has to be _ perfect. Realistically, it’s impossible, but other people doesn’t have to know that Jaehyun is defected. So he hides them, denies they exist and works hard to achieve perfection he knew doesn’t exist. People just get to see when Jaehyun does his best, they are not losing anything with not knowing Jaehyun’s struggle anyway.

He thought it’s  _ Jeong Yoonoh _ who’s better at lying, turns out it’s  _ Jaehyun _ who does it better. After all, it’s  _ Jaehyun _ who created  _ Yoonoh _ .

_ Jaehyun  _ is the liar. Jaehyun is the one who’s been keeping a front all these times. It’s him who perfected that dimpled-smile and well-woven words.  _ Jaehyun _ was the one who hid behind the image he carefully drawn about himself, not  _ Yoonoh _ .

_ Jaehyun  _ was the one who approached Taeyong and he was the one whom Taeyong  _ knew _ .

Taeyong never knew him, Taeyong never knew about this weakling who hid behind the many names he created for himself. The  _ Jaehyun _ whom Taeyong knew and feels so strongly for doesn’t really exist, he’s just another byproduct of Jaehyun’s ego to chase after something he ridiculously thought exists.

_ Always strive to be better, always number one, always- _

Realization always comes like lightning bolt, shocking him to point of numbness.

He had felt hollow before when he was separated from Taeyong, but now he feels even more hollow.

Taeyong  _ never _ knew him.

“I lied to you,” the words tumble out from his mouth. They crash to the floor with ugly, jarring noise. Jaehyun lets the pieces lie there, broken. He didn’t even scoop up Taeyong’s tears before, why should he save his own?

Taeyong merely stares at him. His lips are sealed, his breathing is already even. He is not frowning, he is not judging nor assessing Jaehyun. He simply waits for Jaehyun to continue because he  _ knew _ Jaehyun is not finished yet.

Jaehyun scoffs bitterly, at himself, not at Taeyong. Taeyong must knew it too.

What Taeyong doesn’t know is that he never really knew Jaehyun at all. None of them really knew Jaehyun at all, it seems.

“I lied to you about so many things, Hyung. About myself, about my feelings. Everything. I was untrue. I’m-”

“About what precisely?” Taeyong asks him calmly without removing his gaze from Jaehyun.

He hates it. Pinnned under his stare, Jaehyun feels trapped, he has nowhere to run. It conflicts him because didn’t he just realized he’s been  _ lying _ to Taeyong this whole time? It had been easy, why should now be any different?

“I don’t exactly know what is running through that head of yours, Jaehyunnie. It’s been three years, I could be mistaken. But I believe I  _ knew _ you,” his hand slid from Jaehyun’s nape to his cheeks. Stroking his thumb over Jaehyun’s cheekbones, he continues, “so let me tell you this; just because you decided to hide things from me doesn’t make you a liar. At least not for me, Jaehyun. You can never be a liar in front of me, you  _ cannot _ .”

“But I did!” Jaehyun exclaims hotly. Tears are starting to gather in his eyes, he inhales sharply, trying to keep them at bay. “I lied to you. When I came to you that day, it wasn’t because I want to befriend you but because I-”

“You want to win against me.”

“I was using a lie, too, remember?” Jaehyun recalls that day in training room. He  _ lied _ to his friends about Taeyong wanting to teach him dance when it’s actually him who wanted the elder boy to teach him. “We didn’t even begin with honesty, how are we-”

“Are you stupid?”

“Huh?”

“I asked you, Jaehyun; are you  _ stupid _ ?”

Jaehyun blinks down at his hyung, lying naked under his body, on his bed. His dried cum between them. This is another scene from Jaehyun’s dream. It’s surreal. Maybe it makes Jaehyun stupid.

“I told you already that regardless of your intention, even if there was lie in it, I’m glad that you approached me that day. Your said lie doesn’t change the fact that if it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t be who I am now. If it wasn’t for you, I could never have a real friend. I wouldn’t be able to depend on other people and probably crack under pressure.”

“But-”

“No ‘ _ buts’ _ , let me finish,” Taeyong pinches his cheek in annoyance. But he is not angry. Just annoyed. He is not  _ angry  _ even though he knew Jaehyun is lying to him.

_ Why? _

“Okay, first; don’t think.  _ Stop thinking _ ,” Taeyong cups his face with both hands, giving slight squeeze for emphasize. “You’re too smart, Jaehyunnie. Too smart to the point sometimes your mind carries you to where it shouldn’t be. It makes you dumb, and stupid, and very, very silly. So, stop thinking, okay?”

Jaehyun nods obediently. Taeyong grins, satisfied.

“Good. Now, like I said; I don’t exactly know what is running through your head. I  _ knew _ you Jaehyun, despite what you’d like to believe. I do  _ know _ you. However, it’s been three years and people do change, so maybe your head is no longer working like how it used to, but clearly, it’s still the same.”

“I’m still the same liar?”

The corners of his mouth drop into a pout. “I said;  _ stop thinking _ . Calling yourself a liar is part of the forbidden  _ thinking _ . So; stop, listen to me, trust me. Do you?”

He doesn’t need to be forbidden from thinking to answer that one without using his brain. It’s automatic. It’s something that Jaehyun does naturally like breathing and doesn’t question the mechanism behind it. “I trust you.”

“I do, too, Jaehyun. I trust you. And I believe in you, always. I believe right now you’re just confused. Or maybe; you have always been confused all these time, since you left the agency. Or even before, when you talked to me for the first time? Anyway, you are in this huge confusion and since you’re smart, you tend to overthink. You tend to imagine the worst, and in return, you did what you do best.”

“Lying.”

“Pretending,” Taeyong corrects him, smoothing Jaehyun’s sweaty hair back with the same thumb he used to stroke the younger’s cheek. “Distracting yourself. Running away. Whatever you call it. Maybe lying too, but it’s your defense mechanism. You did it to protect yourself, you’re not doing it out of spite or to hurt anyone.”

“But I hurt you, Hyung,” Jaehyun whines. He doesn’t get it. Why does Taeyong keep defending him? His explanation makes it as if Jaehyun was not in the wrong, trying to shift the blame away from him. Jaehyun is an adult now, he should be held responsible over his doings.

“You did, but I never resent you for it. I can never.”

“ _ Why? _ ” the million dollar question spills itself again from Jaehyun’s lips. He wonders how many times that word has been running through their heads today.

“I trust you, that even if you hurt me, you will find a way to fix me. And if even if you hurt me, I know you’re not doing it to intentionally hurt anyone but yourself.”

Jaehyun feels his chest hammering. He also feels his heart singing, searing with affection that threatens to burn itself to dust and ashes. His stomach churns with self-loathing. Taeyong really is too kind for him, he doesn’t deserve someone as beautiful and altruistic as Taeyong. Taeyong is the white, unblemished canvas. He deserves to be filled with vibrant colors like gold of the sun or blue of the sky, not the ugly, void paint of black that is Jaehyun.

“Hating you will only hurt you. How can I do it when you’re already hurting yourself.”

Jaehyun has been failing to understand why Taeyong is so head-strong on not blaming him, but none of them baffle him more than this one. Taeyong seems to have an idea that Jaehyun is hurting himself. Ridiculous, Jaehyun thinks, he never hurts himself. He always hurt someone else, Taeyong included.

“That face tells me you don’t understand.”

“I don’t,” Jaehyun admits easily, but then Taeyong says he wouldn’t be able to easily admit the next thing Taeyong is about to tell him. “What is it?” Jaehyun asks, curious, maybe half-challenged.

“You hurt yourself because you’re punishing yourself, Jae-”

Jaehyun seethes,  “why should I?”

Taeyong is being ridiculous. Taeyong is mad. Three years being hurt over their broken promise must have done this to him. Jaehyun knew he should be feeling guilty more than anything, but in that exact moment, all he can feel is anger. All he sees is red.

Taeyong is insulting him. Taeyong is trying to hurt him. Taeyong  _ lied _ to him. He said he cannot resent Jaehyun, but if this isn’t getting back to Jaehyun for what he had done to him, then what  _ is this?  _ How could he say something as bizarre as that; Jaehyun punishing himself. What for?

He hates himself, sure, but he would let the world do it for him because he deserves them and they’re fair judges. He’s not some weird, twisted person who takes pleasure from hurting himself. He’s not someone that weak who dwells too much in pity-party, feasting in negative emotions to justify his wrong doings and alleviate his guilt.

He is not saying he is noble. He is a liar, anyway. A gutless, spineless, coward. But even then, he tried, he made effort to run away. He didn’t give up doing nothing, even if everything turned out to be a mess, he fought and went down like normal people do.

Jaehyun is low but he’s not as low as to let himself succumb defeat without trying. If he tried and be the devil, then so be it. He wished he’s not this kind of person, but his ego would rather have him become a diablo rather than some small fries that lost before the game even started.

He has fought, even if the outcome is far from satisfying. He was wrong, and this is how the world punished him. He hurt Taeyong, and maybe this is how Taeyong is carrying out his revenge; by insulting him, by pointing out his mistakes, by calling Jaehyun someone weak who punishes himself just so he can be justified for his-

_ because this feeling of his - this love that threatens to consume him like the way Taeyong's eyes would whenever they meet his - is as forbidden as sin itself.  _

_ not enough, more, more, _

_ but then there’s Taeyong and he stood taller than any wall of slump Jaehyun had faced before, _

_ more because Taeyong was already far ahead; always had been, always, and _

“Do you understand now?”

Taeyong is calm, serene. Like moonlight. And his eyes are the dark lake that reflects the said silver moon. Quiet. Water ebbing and flowing. Unknown depth. Mysterious. Calling. Beckoning. Jaehyun was attracted, since the first time he laid his eyes on Taeyong, he was enchanted.

Taeyong is creature of magic. He must not be human for no human ought to be that captivating. He must not be human for no human ought to be this kind and understanding.

How could he understand Jaehyun this well when Jaehyun doesn’t even understand himself? How could he accept Jaehyun when Jaehyun keeps denying himself?

How could he love someone as pathetic and selfish as Jaehyun when Taeyong is someone so big and benevolent?

“I don’t,” Jaehyun croaks out.

It’s not exactly the answer to Taeyong’s question. It’s the answer to the one that’s been running in his own head. He remembers then that Taeyong had told him to stop thinking. Now, he understands why; it’s exactly because of this. It’s true, Jaehyun tends to overthink, and his habit leads him to think of another thing when he should be focusing his attention to Taeyong and his words as the elder try to help him unravel himself.

Taeyong  _ knows  _ him so well, he is trying to make Jaehyun discover himself too. Something that Jaehyun has been refusing to do, because he is-

“You do understand.”

Jaehyun swallows back a sob. He doesn’t trust himself to speak, so he nods. It’s enough answer for Taeyong (who  _ knows _ him so well, who  _ loves _ him, who doesn’t hate and resent him even after knowing how weak and defected Jaehyun is when he should be anything but).

“You are punishing yourself because you think you’re not good enough. But at the same time, you’re afraid to admit it, Jaehyun; you don’t want to admit that you’re so lacking to the point you’re hurting yourself. You are scared. You have always been.”

Taeyong runs comforting circle on his cheeks, his eyes are as tender as his smile. They’re just as sad, too, but not for himself; for Jaehyun, for the boy who had lost himself but never realize he’s losing.

“You’re perfectionist, deep down, you don’t want to be anything but one. So when you realized you are far from one, you did this; punishing yourself. Justifying all the things you’re lacking because you have been penalized for it. Yet, your ego refuses to admit that. This is where all the pretending and over thinking comes.”

“It is?” He is not thinking, maybe that’s why everything that Taeyong has been telling him sounds less confusing. It feels nice to be like this once, to entrust himself to someone and not having to struggle all by himself to find the answer that he’s dying to have.

“You deny that you’re hurting yourself and all the bad things that happen to you is the universe’s doing, not you. You start pretending, and it works so well with your tendency to overthink. When something didn’t work according to your plan, you started thinking about the worst first, not the best. Why?”

Jaehyun shakes his head. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t want to think. Taeyong had told him not to, right? He can just have Taeyong explain it to him, he is tired. Jaehyun  _ is _ tired. It’s been so long. He has been alone for so and  _ too _ long.

“Because you think you  _ deserve  _ it, for everything you’re lacking, you deserve to be punished, all those bad things should happen to you. That’s why you thought I hate you. Because you’re scared of that rejection, so you decided to leave without saying a word.”

He didn’t have anyone but Taeyong whom he couldn’t meet and thought hated him. Jaehyun had been living in that fear, alone, for far too long. His winter was long; twenty four cycles of moon, and then some.

“You could have thought of something else, Jaehyunnie. You could have thought that I’m mad but won’t be for too long. You could have remembered that as powerless as you are when it comes to me, I too, am powerless when it comes to you. You could have thought that way but you didn’t, because you thought you deserve the hatred even though deep down, you knew I wouldn’t.”

All those times were spent thinking he would never have his chance anymore, destined to be alone and stuck in one-sided love forever, because the guy he’s in love with is an idol from a famous agency while he is nothing but a pathetic fansite master who’s probably resented by the celebrity he’s chasing after because he had broken their promises together.

“It must have been hard for you...”

Jaehyun is exhausted. He wants to stop and just be, because now he finally understands how everything that’s been tormenting him right now had been nothing but a nightmare he conjured himself, he doesn’t find a reason to fight anymore.

“All this time you have been hurting, alone. That’s why I can never hate you nor resent you for leaving without goodbye. I  _ knew _ why you alienated yourself, I didn’t contact you sooner either because I know even if I did, you would try to run away. Until you realized that you cannot stand living that way, there’s no use trying to seek you out.”

Why should he when all the ghost that’s been terrorizing him can disappear just by doing something as simple as stop over thinking?

“I waited, waited, and waited. I didn’t care how long it’d take because I trust you, I believe in you. You  _ will _ find me, just like you did before. Until then, I would fight, I wouldn’t give up. I don’t care how much it hurts because I know you’re hurting too. If you can endure it, then I can, too. I-”

Taeyong falters suddenly, his eyes growing wide before softening. Jaehyun wonders what did he see that make him look like that. A smile slips back to his face, so gentle, so tender. So warm like the sun that filters through the thick grey cloud after the rain. So beautiful like the rest of Taeyong is.

“I’m with you, Jaehyun. Because you told me you’re with me, because despite the fear that’s been driving you to torment yourself, you reached out to me, still. You found me, again. Just like you promised; you are  _ with  _ me, Jaehyunnie. You never left, not even once.”

“Hyung, I-”

“I know.”

There are so many things he wants to say, but he fails to continue for the wretched sob that escapes him.

Jaehyun cries.

There was a dream, ruptured and broken.

There was Jaehyun, heart battered and leg torn.

There was Taeyong, beautiful like the wisp of firefly under the twinkling sky of summer.

There was a promise, thought to be broken but turned out it wasn’t. Because despite everything, Jaehyun had  _ stayed _ , it might not be physical but clearly for Taeyong, it was more than enough.

“I’m tired,” Jaehyun closes his eyes.

There was three years and a couple of months keeping them apart. It is not a distance they can easily cross overnight, but Taeyong is truly magical it seems, because he had easily walked past and beyond that gaping length to find Jaehyun; to help Jaehyun  _ find  _  himself once and for all.

“You must be,” Taeyong agrees. “And it’s okay. There is nothing wrong with that. So, let’s stop, okay? Stop for a while and stay with me, Jaehyunnie.”

There is  _ Jeong Jaehyun _ . There is  _ Jeong Yoonoh _ . They’re different but one and the same. They both lie. They both feign and pretend. They both smile easily with dimples that charm everyone, they compose words, pretty like song and poetry.

They both like to think too much, to read too much into things. They both keep their distances from other people, erecting invisible wall with the same friendly smile and genial words. They’re always wary, cautious. In their heads, the world can come crashing down or fall apart anytime, uncaring to what they’re feeling.

They’re both scared so they ran away. Refuges were seek, people were hurt. But  _ Jaehyun _ and  _ Yoonoh _ were too busy pretending to realize they’re the one who bled the most. They’re too scared to admit that they’re hurting for they’re not allowed to be anything but  _ good and always better, always ahead of the games. Always. _

And then, there was Taeyong, the center of their world. Their gravity. Their beginning and their unbecoming. Beautiful Saviour.  _ Yoonoh _ didn’t feel as much for Taeyong, but he loves him still. Jaehyun though, Jaehyun cannot exist without Taeyong.

He loves him too much, even if he knows his feeling will never be returned. Taeyong hated him for breaking their promise.

Or so Jaehyun thought.

“I didn’t break my promise.”

“You didn’t.” Taeyong cups his face and draws him closer until Jaehyun’s hands are propped on either sides of Taeyong’s head, keeping him from completely crashing on the elder boy.

The soft smile is still on Taeyong’s face. There are also tears dampening his obsidian eyes. If he cries, Jaehyun wants to cry with him. If he falls, Jaehyun wants to fall with him.

If Taeyong says he knows Jaehyun, Jaehyun will understand too. If Taeyong trusts Jaehyun, Jaehyun will try and believe in himself too. Again. Once more.

“I never. The promise, I kept it.”

Taeyong pulls him closer until their foreheads are touching. Their sweaty hair are tangled, normally, Taeyong would find it disgusting. But right now, he doesn’t seem to care, judging from the wide grin that he’s sporting. “You did. You kept your promise, Jaehyunnie. You always do.”

“You do not hate me, you-” Jaehyun falters, unable to continue his words because he’s too overwhelmed; with so many feelings, with how brightly Taeyong is smiling. With how close they are.

“You are not hurting me. You did, but it’s okay. I forgive you.”

With how happy they are. It’s making him dizzy. It makes him giddy and excited. He’s breathless, full with love and gratitude. He wants to cry but he wants to kiss Taeyong too. Jaehyun doesn’t know which one to do first, all he knows is he loves this man; so much,  _ too _ much.

The thing is; he loves him, with the sureness of rising sun and the fatality of its dawn. And Jaehyun knows this love is his be and end all.

They’re so close, like this, he can count the lashes that frame Taeyong’s eyes. There are tears caught between, and they shine more than diamonds do. And more than them, Taeyong’s eyes stand out the brightest of them all.

They stare at each other. Time stands still, world waits with baited breath. They’re supposed to be cold, unfeeling. They had went on, ruthlessly, when Jaehyun was struggling and had not even get back on his feet. They had walked away, pitiless, letting Taeyong drown under sea of heartless comments.

Yet, now here they are, witnessing their reunion along with the silent furnitures of Jaehyun’s room and the dark navy of his wall, as if making up for all the cold shoulders they had given to the two of them.

Jaehyun smiles, with a shaky breath, he forgives them. He forgives himself too. Everyone deserves a second chance, just like Jaehyun deserves Taeyong’s love. Speaking of Taeyong, speaking of love-

“...Taeyong-hyung,” Jaehyun calls.

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

There was winter. Everlast. There was Jaehyun in the center of it.

But maybe there was no winter that lasts that long to begin with. Maybe there had always been spring, and summer, and came autumn before winter decided to sweep the world once again with its white.

Maybe Jaehyun was just too wrapped up in his mind to realize that if he simply walked outside, spring was always there, waiting.

And Taeyong, Lee Taeyong beneath him, is the spring he always longed for but kept on missing.

“I know.”

:::

Season comes. Season goes. Taeyong is spring, and just like that, Jaehyun has to eventually bid his farewell.

But now, he has spring sleeping curled against his side. His chest rising and falling evenly as he breathes. His black hair falling shortly above his eyes, slightly swept to the side, no longer damp with sweat.

They need to take a shower, Jaehyun thinks dazedly as he stares down on the figure that lies stark naked beside him.

They need to wash Jaehyun’s sheet as well. It’s soiled with their dried cum, it’s gross.

Jaehyun flicks his gaze towards the clock on the wall. It’s seven. It’s earlier than he thought, it should be okay to sleep again, right?

Taeyong mumbles something in his sleep -  _ whine? _ \- then snuggles closer to Jaehyun, seeking for his warmth. He even tightens his hold around Jaehyun’s torso. The brunette gapes. Just because he can remember what happened, doesn’t mean he can already comprehend everything, let alone believing it.

_ Oh _ , he remembers though about everything that happened last night.

He remembers making love to Taeyong. He remembers how they had kissed, and kissed, and Taeyong had shyly said,  _ “I want you, Jaehyunnie _ .”

Jaehyun remembers how he had let all his restrains go. They made love twice, one with Taeyong clutching the sheet beneath him, and one with Taeyong sinking down on him, clinging on Jaehyun as the younger boy branded his love on his sweaty skin.

They went to sleep right after, and this is how Jaehyun finds himself in the morning, with Taeyong curled by his side and one arm resting on top of his chest, Jaehyun’s own hand wrapped around his naked back.

They had made love. It’s  _ making love  _ not  _ sex _ . They love each other, always do and will always be. That is the exact reason why Taeyong asked him to act upon it last night; because they love each other and they knew the very same love could be their downfall.

It doesn’t have to be spoken to be known. It’s the kind of understanding of each other that they have (which is amazing on its own considering how long Jaehyun has been stuck in one huge mess of misunderstanding). They both fully realize that there is no way their love can bring him any good, for now at least.

Taeyong is still an idol, and Jaehyun is his fansite master.

Actually, it doesn’t matter what Jaehyun’s status is, he can be just Taeyong’s best friend, and their relationship will damage Taeyong’s career all the same. A dating scandal with a girl itself is bad, let alone a scandal with a fellow guy. It’s not only about how homosexual relationship is still frowned upon in Korea, it’s also about how Taeyong’s career is totally dependent on his image.

Taeyong cannot promise him anything. He doesn’t even know when they will be able to see each other personally again like this. Jaehyun understands, so he doesn’t demand anything either. It’s enough. He is already satisfied with how things turned out between them.

All of the misunderstandings in his head had been resolved. He had finally came terms with himself, maybe not completely achieving peace but Taeyong said it’s okay,  _ “the most important thing is you have already forgiven yourself. The rest will come together after that.” _ Taeyong sounded so sure of himself. Jaehyun wondered if he learned it from experience.

They have finally revealed their feelings too; it’s clear now that they love each other with the same intensity and the same passion. That’s all they need, or at least what they want themselves to believe they do. After all, they had spent three years apart without their feelings unchanging, only growing stronger if possible. This time, they hope things will turn the same.

Jaehyun wants to be selfish, as usual. But then just as usual, when it comes to Taeyong, he’s  _ fucking _ weak. He doesn’t want to see Taeyong hurting anymore from hateful words spat out by strangers. This time, he wants to protect him. Even if it means never experiencing what two people in love normally do, his protectiveness for Taeyong emerges victorious.

This won’t be the first time he’s loving in silence either. He’s used to it already. The only change from his previous situation is his object of affection is already returning his feelings. Plus, this time he actually has his family’s backing and support. Jaehyun can do it. For himself. For Taeyong.

“This time, I will do it well. I will be better,” Jaehyun murmurs his vow to sleeping Taeyong. His  _ boyfriend _ but not quiet. “This time, I will love you, it might not be the proper way to love someone but it will be something I can be proud of.”

Jaehyun takes Taeyong’s hand in his. Gently, he presses a kiss to the back of it. Taeyong sleeps on, oblivious, unbothered. He feels safe. Protected. Jaehyun’s heart sears with happiness.

“I’m with you, always.”

Outside, the sun rises higher. Weather turns colder. Winter has come to visit again. It’s sad to part again with this beautiful lush of blooms and lively warmth.

But this time, Jaehyun will be okay. He thinks maybe he can finally make friends with winter.

:::

The thing is; he loves him, with the sureness of rising sun and the fatality of its dawn.

He loves him, and it tears him apart, from skin to flesh, then bones, and to the smallest atomic particle that made him up and brought him to existence.

But the yells around him though, the screaming, the ever so noisy cheers of fangirls and fanboys alike; they are  _ killing _ him.

Jaehyun feels like cursing in every single language he knows. Well, he only  _ knows _ two, Korean and English, he probably should learn some from Taeoh and Junghwa. Speaking of these two, they have apparently started seeing each other after Jaehyun introduced them by making Taeoh accompany Junghwa to find the perfect birthday present for his brother.

They get along really well in so many aspects it actually scares him how seamless they are. They even wept together over the adorable picture of Taeyong yawning that Sodam snapped. What a perfect pair, Jaehyun wonders when will they announce they’re officially together.

It shouldn’t have taken long with Taeoh’s history of being one of the sought after guys in school. But again, he doesn’t remember if Taeoh had the experience of being the one confessing. As far as Jaehyun can remember, one of the the reason why he and Taeoh stuck with each other was because the two of them have always been confessed to. The only difference was Taeoh accepted some while Yoonoh turned all down.

_ Yoonoh _ ,  _ Jaehyun _ . He had tried to stop differentiating the two, but it’s surprisingly difficult. He told this to Taeyong who could only reply his message when he had time, which means it’s very rare since he’s busy preparing for his comeback.

“It’s okay, Jaehyunnie. Take your time. You are you either way.”

Right, regardless, Taeyong  _ knows _ him. Jaehyun doesn’t have to fear losing himself anymore because even if he did, Taeyong will always find him again and guide Jaehyun back to the right path.

“ _ Fuck you _ ,” Jaehyun swears in English to someone on his right who had accidentally stepped on his feet. The person remains unbothered, screaming his lungs out like mindless banshee.

Jaehyun regrets not ticketing with Sodam and Junghwa, they seem to get somewhere relatively tamer. Chaerin beside him is having the same trouble as he does, but the experience of becoming fansite master longer than Jaehyun has apparently steel her.

Jaehyun is not yet used to this. After all, he used to take photos in a studio with no one bothering him, of even if it’s outdoor shoot, he makes sure to have enough space to move freely. When he worked for concert photos, he always came in as media so he’s given easier access.

Well, at least from his spot he can get perfect shot of Taeyong. Taeyong who’s looking all riled, scared, and agitated.

Taeyong is sitting between Ten and Hansol. He’s wearing orange long sleeved shirt over a black one, a cargo pants, and boots. His clothes aren’t particularly drawing him, but with how nervous he’s being, he looks even smaller.

Jaehyun longs to run there and smother Taeyong in his embrace. And if anybody stops him, he’ll claim, “bitch, he’s my  _ boyfriend _ .”

Taeyong’s hair is black, as black as when he was spread under Jaehyun, the very same ebony hair splayed on Jaehyun’s pillow, some plastered to his forehead. The image makes Jaehyun’s stomach stir. His mind almost went _ there _ had it not been for how distressed Taeyong is.

He is shaking, he won’t stop moving. He’s looking down on his laps where his hands are clasped in what Jaehyun can tell to be a dead grip. He’s so tense, like bowstring. Jaehyun fears he’s going to break with one single poke at the right place. Taeyong doesn’t break, but he’s distraught, and he seems to be aware of it.

He takes a huge breath to calm himself, right hand moving to clutch his chest where his heart is hammering until Doyoung catches them instead. He brings it back to Taeyong’s lap, squeezing it with reassurance and smile.

Jaehyun tears up a bit. He takes series of photos focusing on their linked hands, making mental note to text Doyoung and thank him later.

Also, he’d probably tells Taeyong not to hold hands with other members too much, because Jaehyun is possessive bastard like that. Taeyong says he  _ likes _ it, Jaehyun being overly protective. He says it makes him feel loved, and Jaehyun is apparently cute when he’s all jealous and riled up. Jaehyun ignores the last comment and focuses on the first ones.

They’re going to announce the winner anytime now. Jaehyun sees Taeyong bringing his hands together to his face in an act of prayer. It’s fast, it ends too soon, but Jaehyun manages to capture it with his lens.

He is so beautiful, even all tense and wrung like that, so scared and worried, he is still the most beautiful thing in Jaehyun’s eyes.

Everyone started clapping, Taeyong follows. But he is still clapping when everyone has stopped, probably too wrapped up in his own head. He eventually stopped at some point, back to clasping his hands on his laps. He clamps his mouth shut in that signature pout of his, body leaning slightly forward before he slouches completely, hands cupped in front of his mouth.

People around him start chanting NCT’s name. Jaehyun is too busy immortalizing that beautifully scared boy with his camera.

The MC continues, the moment drags on. Hansol starts laughing over something, Ten draws his body back until he’s half leaning on Doyoung who suddenly looks as tense as their leader. Renjun has his hand on Doyoung’s hand, squeezing it with huge grin on his face.

Yuta looks calm but Jaehyun bets the Japanese man is feeling anything but if the hand that’s resting on top of Hansol’s knee is anything to go by, then he’s just as nervous. Haechan looks blank beside him. Mark is more honest with his distress; he keeps on tapping his foot on the floor, unable to stay still from nervousness.

Then the name is out, “NCT 127!” the MC announces. The crowd around him erupts with ecstatic roar. Someone steps on his foot again, someone pushes him forward. He hears Chaerin swearing in joy beside him. Jaehyun holds his ground and continues taking pictures.

Taeyong stands up, clapping while biting his lower lips, before he turns to wrap himself around Doyong who hugs him back in return. He clings there, burying his face on Doyoung’s shoulder for a while.

Jaehyun knows why. He is not angry nor jealous. He is genuinely happy for his Hyungs. He just hopes he could be there with them. He wonders if he did, would it be him who Taeyong is hugging now? Would it be him who tried to quell Taeyong’s distress by holding his hand?

He could have been there if he hadn’t busted his leg. He did, because Jaehyun back then was still too young to understand he shouldn’t be blinded by his ambition that he neglected to take care of his leg. He’s still as blind now, maybe, just a little bit wiser and is able to see the bigger picture.

He is still a perfectionist who hates losing. He still wants to do everything perfectly. He is selfish, but now he’s trying to reduce the amount of lie he spews and denial that he puts up around himself. Completely understanding himself is still far away, but Jaehyun is sure he can do it. He is getting there, slow but sure. There is no need to rush because the last time he did, they break and fall.

Jaehyun is not going to repeat the same mistake anymore. He is going to do it  _ right _ , not necessarily  _ better _ ; just right, as long as he can eventually achieve his goal. It’s going to be a long journey, this time he won’t be alone. Taeyong will be there for him, holding his hand and telling him it’s okay to stop and fall.

He will not leave, nor will he belittle or ridicule him if Jaehyun failed again. Taeyong doesn’t want him perfect, Taeyong just wants him happy. Jaehyun wants the same thing too for both of them; he wants them to be happy no matter how many hardship they have to endure.

_ If we’re together, we can be a little happier _ , that’s what Taeyong had written in his song. Jaehyun supposes it’s true, he  _ has _ to make it true.

After all, they have shared so many things together; their past, their tears, their childish laughters and broken dreams. Their sadness and hope that saved them from the dark place where despair cannot seem to stop haunting him.

Their pain and insecurity. Their fear and word of consolation that they probably exchanged even though they knew nothing can be alright that easily.

They have shared them all and they will share even more from now on. Together. Hand in hand they might not be, but their hearts are aligned already. He can do this. They can, be happy. They have each other, Jaehyun will fight anyone who try to keep them apart again, even if it’s the ever so pitiless world and time.

Jaehyun couldn’t be there to hug Taeyong or pat his shoulder. He couldn’t directly say his congratulation now like Ten or Jeno. But he can be here, capturing all those moments that are gone once time decides to tick forward.

He is Taeyong’s fansite master now, not a potential debut trainee who can stand on the same stage as Taeyong.

This is his job right now, his mission, to capture all of Taeyong on film and make the world see what Jaehyun has always seen. A beautiful boy with diamond-cut jaw and enigmatic dark eyes who can lit up the whole world with his smile. A boy who’s all heart and is too selfless to defend himself. A boy who’s willing to hurt if it means he can protect the ones he loves.

A boy who is kind, warm and lively like spring. The boy Jaehyun has always been looking and longing for in his summer, fall, and winter. He cannot live without Taeyong. There are four seasons and they won’t complete a cycle without spring. It’s the beginning, it also signals the end of one.

Jaehyun thinks it’s so like Taeyong; he started finding himself when he met Taeyong. They were apart, then were reunited. Taeyong had found him, effectively ending his journey. Now he is standing in front of another gate, one that will lead him to a new path.

He doesn’t know what lies ahead but he knows it’s not going to be easy. There are likely to be obstacles, maybe even more than the ones he already encountered.

He’s scared, he admits that. He is done with running away from his weaknesses. He wants to stop punishing himself from being weak.

If Jaehyun is scared, then so be it. He can fear and worry as much as he wants, nobody will blame him anymore; Taeyong won’t let him do that to himself.

Standing in front of that gate beside him is Taeyong. Taeyong is starting another journey, too, not exactly the same one with Jaehyun, his will be much more tasking and difficult. Yet, they have decided that they will stick together. If they close their eyes, they can feel each other’s warmth, a step beside them.

Jaehyun might have been too blind to realize that Taeyong have always been walking by his side. Now he already knows, he will cherish every single moment of it. They have shared so much together; their dreams, their hearts. They can do this. They just have to live and endure, and as long as they’re together, they can be happier.

He can be. Taeyong can be. They had been lonely, tired, abandoned. They had been wounded, but they’re still here now because of that one promise that bonded them together.

NCT 127 started walking forward one by one, led by the deafening cheers and claps. Doyoung lets go of Taeyong who should be walking right after Yuta. Yet when Yuta is already walking away, Taeyong stays on the spot.

He throws his gaze to the audience, shining eyes searching.

Jaehyun feels his breath stopping. The beating of his heart triumphs over the noises surrounding him. Someone is pushing him forward yet again, but Jaehyun doesn’t care.

He lowers his camera completely from his face. Chaerin is saying something that sounds like, “he’s looking over here!”, Jaehyun cannot be so sure because he’s too taken by that boy who has held his heart in captive since he was fifteen and hadn’t really understand about love.

Jaehyun is sure though, that this is the very same boy that had believed in him even when Jaehyun himself couldn’t. The leader of SM’s next big thing is looking straight at him.

Lee Taeyong.

The boy he cannot live without.

His spring.

_ “You are with me,” _ his teary smile says.

_ “I’m with you, _ ” Jaehyun hears his own smile replies back.

And like this, they are connected, without an end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, thank you for everyone who had spared their times to read this monster of 70k! Thank you even more for everyone who had been as king as leaving their comments here. I appreciate each and every single of them, I'm sorry if I didn't answer your comment right away. I'll answer it asap this time //o\\\
> 
> Second, thank you for the LOVELIEST, PRETTIEST, KINDEST, BETA, EVER, SOPHIA, WHO HELPED ME THROUGH THIS MONSTER OF 70k WORDS. I LOVE YOU, BLESS YOU AND YOUR FAMILY!
> 
> Third, thank you for everyone who had supported me through the creation of this baby. To the ever so lovely Kei, and another lovely Kei, and the loveliest most talented jaeyong fanartist Mbe, and banana milkeu fam ofc \\\ o //
> 
> This has been a lovingly long-ass ride. While there're a couple of things that I wished could have turned out better, one thing for sure is I do not regret how Jaehyun and Taeyong's relationship turned out to be in the end. It's one part that I will never change even if I got the chance to rewrite the entire story (andimnotsorry).
> 
> Jaehyun's problem - all his misunderstanding and dilemma - is something that chronic-worrier can relate with; the over-thinking, the mind that doesn't stop painting worst case scenario in our head, the noise that never seem to stop, the restlessness and constant fear that makes us lost our way in the end. I hope whoever is suffering from the same thing - of being lost and trapped in their own mind - can one day find someone who's willing to take their hands and show them the way. Please remember it is okay to be lost, we all do sometimes, and just because someone have found theirs, doesn't mean we can immediately find ours. Take your time. Accept your fear, make friends with them. One day, you'll be given a way out.
> 
> After the release of SUN & MOON, I consider either writing TY's side of this story OR a sequel. At this point it's just an idea poking my head, nothing is decided. But I'd like to hear what you think; TY's side OR a sequel, and why?
> 
> There're so many things I want to say about this piece, I know you have it too, so please leave it down on comment below ;)


End file.
